Brothers by Dragons
by darkfire1220
Summary: Eragon and Murtagh have grown up together with their uncle Garrow and cousin Roran since childhood. One night, they discover two stones- one blue, one red. When out from the stones hatch two dragons, Eragon and Murtagh are pulled into the dangerous life of rogue Dragon Riders. As the brothers travel with their dragons Saphira and Thorn, they have no idea if they will live or die.
1. Lightning Strikes Twice

**Prologue: The Shade's Prey**

Wisps of cold air rushed by through the woods, a chill of north wind that was too eerie to be natural, and unnatural it was. For the icy breath found its way to the one who was emanating such an evil presence, whispering to its master that it was nearly time. The master was a tall, thin, and so pale a man, his appearance could have been vampiric to the superstitious. Regardless of what he truly was, there was no denying that he was completely malevolent.

He smirked in satisfaction at the news the wind brought to him. His now deceased spy had been right. Despite dying in the end to retrieve such important information, the master's servant had done his job well. Not that the master especially cared, but maybe he'd leave the spy's family alone since he'd achieved his goal.

Maybe.

The master motioned to his men, hulking humanoid beings that were beast-like in appearance. They were Urgals, and each one was easily controlled by the overwhelming might of his mind. Their sole purpose was to use their weapons- swords, axes, maces, bows, whatever to slay the ones whom the master ordered dead. And blood would run through this forest tonight.

He sent a mental command to set the trap, knowing that they were mere moments from an important battle. The Urgals shuffled into position, surprisingly silent for such brutish creatures. Their people were skilled hunters. The master knew this, which was why they were chosen for this mission rather than normal men. They were also monstrously strong, and their strength was needed to overpower their equally strong enemy.

Hoofbeats suddenly echoed through the air, quiet, but present regardless. The master hid behind a tree and grinned with fiendish delight as his prey came into vision. It was them. Without a doubt, it was them.

Three figures rode upon snowy white horses, creatures of elegance and grace just as their riders were. Two males, armed with a sword and a bow respectively, flanked a female in the center. She carried two objects in her lap and seemed to be murmuring a gentle, beautiful song to them.

Elves. And not just any elves. He was surprised that _she_ of all people was carrying these valuable treasures. His King had been nearly certain that she was still in the elfish city of Ellesmera. Apparently, she was bolder than they had assumed.

Or just more foolish. The master cared not why the elf princess was here, but she was an incredible catch along with the items she bore. That was assuming they could capture her. But he would not fail.

The master mentally commanded his soldiers to attack.

An instant later, the twang of a bow was followed by a cry of agony, as the archer elf ironically fell to his death with an arrow piercing his throat. The remaining two elves instantly bolted, knowing full well that they simply could not place their comrade's life above their mission.

Once their horses started to run, the Urgals unleashed the rest of their trap by pulling a rope from between two trees. They hardly flinched as the beasts hit the rope and toppled over, then made for their weapons and rushed the remaining two elves.

The riders had recovered gracefully and instantly prepared for battle. With haste, the female put the two objects she so preciously guarded in her pack and pulled out a sword to fight with. The Urgals rushed in, but the two elves managed to slay the first few with such ease that the others backed off a moment to assess their prey more carefully.

The master cared not for their lives and ordered a suicide rush, hoping that one of the Urgals might land a fatal blow.

Unfortunately, the two elves were so incredibly skilled that they slew Urgal after Urgal, cutting limbs and taking heads. The master got tired of their incompetence and so moved silently through the brush as the assault continued. The moment the remaining male elf left himself open following the death of yet another Urgal, he rushed forward with inhuman speed and grabbed the male by the throat. A fierce grip began to strangle his prey, who scrabbled to escape and tried to slash at his assailant, but to no avail. The master simply grabbed the elf's sword and held it in his free hand.

The female spun around as the master ordered his Urgals to back off. Her eyes widened, surprise as well as a slight flicker of fear when she caught sight of the master with her comrade in his death grip.

"Durza…" She gasped.

"Give them to me." Durza ordered, still strangling her comrade in his hand. His monstrous strength was evident, for not even the elf warrior was able to escape his grip.

The princess shook her head, pointing her blade at him, but still wary of the Urgals that surrounded her. "Not even with my dying breath."

"Oh, that can be quickly arranged." He snarled, further crushing the male in his grasp. Durza saw her eyes flicker to the elfish male and grinned viciously. "Ah…you don't want this one to die, do you? You don't want to watch me crush the life out of him…you don't want to hear his heart stop…and feel his body go cold!"

"Ary..a..ru-run…" Gasped the male elf, trying to escape with no avail. His face was blue from the lack of oxygen.

Durza squeezed again to cut off his voice and hissed. "You will give me the dragon eggs now, or both of you will die. I will make you watch him suffer and perish if you hesitate but a moment longer. Hand. Over. The eggs!"

Arya gripped her sword and cried out. "I will not give them back to you and your master, Shade!"

"So unwise."

With a flick of his wrist, Durza snapped the neck of the elfin male and stabbed him through the heart with his own sword for good measure.

The princess wailed at the sight of her dead comrade and fled, rushing away from the Shade and his Urgals before they could react. Durza let out a hiss. "Get her!"

The Urgals scrambled to do his bidding and ran after Arya, catching up to her quickly despite their great bulk. Meanwhile, Durza bolted ahead to intercept their quarry at another ambush point. While the elf princess slew a good many more of his warriors, the Shade cared not.

He attacked with a shout, disarming the elf with his sword. The strike sent her flying back into a tree where she crumpled to the ground, clutching her arm. It was almost certainly broken and he relished in the pained expression on her face.

Up until she took the eggs out of her pack, colored ruby red and sapphire blue, then began to chant. Durza couldn't tell what kind of spell it was, but he lunged to stop her just as two rapid explosions of light blinded him.

The Shade's vision cleared a moment later and he howled in rage. The eggs were gone. He slew the remnants of his Urgal soldiers in his fury and then turned to the injured elf still leaning against the tree.

Durza stalked over to her and lifted the princess by the throat to eye level. He let out a furious snarl. "Where did you send them?! Where!?"

Arya sneered at him despite her pain. "You'll never know."

More furious than ever, Durza punched her with all his might, breaking ribs to the point that she choked up blood.

He intended to kill her until the sound of massive wings beating gave him pause. The Shade looked up in disdain at the great red dragon that landed several meters away, crushing trees carelessly. Its rider was a tall man with black hair and bicolored eyes of blue and black. The man leapt off his dragon and confronted Durza.

"You failed."

"Obviously." Durza sneered.

"Don't kill that one. We bring her back to Gil'ead for interrogation. The King has been seeking a prisoner like her for quite some time. Make sure she doesn't die."

The Shade hissed in displeasure, his thirst for blood not satiated by the murder of the male elf and his Urgal men. The Dragon Rider was unfazed though, and simply turned away to get back to his beast. A moment later, they flew off, probably to report what had transpired to the King.

"Arrogant human." Durza spat, then glared back to the elf. She was unconscious now, and he intended to keep her that way until they made it back to his personal torture chamber. He would break her in every way possible to get the information he wanted.

The King would not like his failure.

* * *

 _Brothers by Dragons_

 _Chapter One: Lightning Strikes Twice_

Eragon glanced about the pine trees, searching for more signs of his quarry. He'd been tracking an injured buck for a while now, but it was still moving along. It was surprising, he thought, that the animal had made it so far without a large predator noticing. The buck was so easy to track, he could have done it blindfolded.

But he had to take this hunt seriously. His family needed the meat.

He followed the tracks to a dried-up riverbed and paused behind a bush. The buck was standing clear as day in the sandy ground, eating a few berries that had dropped from a nearby shrub. Eragon quietly took his bow from his shoulder and notched an arrow.

Suddenly, he caught sight of slight movement on the other side of the riverbed behind a tree. Eragon paused and watched as a bow was drawn by whoever it was near him. He took aim at the buck and let the arrow fly at the same time as the other hunter.

Both arrows connected with their target's heart and the buck dropped dead instantly.

Eragon walked out from behind his hiding spot and smirked at the surprised look of the other, taller hunter. "Bet you didn't see that coming."

"Well, you're so small and scrawny, it's no wonder I couldn't notice!" Grinned the older boy.

"Small and scrawny? I'm amazed you managed to sneak up on even an injured deer, what with you stomping about like a grumpy old bear."

The older of the two rushed him then and the two boys engaged in a playful wrestling match. Eragon managed to keep his opponent at bay for a bit until the older boy got him in a headlock and pinned him down.

"Say uncle." Snickered the elder.

Eragon tried to wriggle free and elbowed him in the gut. "Never!"

The older boy wheezed at the blow. "Oof!"

He loosened his grip on Eragon, who scrambled away and sat down hard. The boys started laughing at their antics and stood up together.

"I didn't even notice you were nearby."

"Well I have always been the more perceptive of us, haven't I, Murtagh?" Eragon grinned.

Murtagh grinned back and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "You really are a little sneak when you want to be. I about had a heart attack when I saw that second arrow come out of nowhere."

"Yeah, but now we can clean this up twice as fast." Eragon remarked as he glanced at the buck. It was a surprisingly fat animal. They had gotten very lucky. Its wound must have been fresh, otherwise it could be starved by now.

Murtagh pulled out his hunting knife and twirled it around with ease. "Well don't just sit there, little brother; get some rope and help me string him up. There's just a few more hours before dark. Better get to work before the wolves come around."

"Aye."

They strung the animal up and got to harvesting its meat. Eragon and Murtagh had been hunting since morning, as requested by their uncle in an effort to get some extra food on the table. It wasn't always easy, feeding four men. Though Eragon was still a teenager at a mere fifteen years old, Murtagh and their cousin Roran were on the brink of manhood at seventeen. Their uncle Garrow had raised all three boys with his now-deceased wife, Marian.

The four of them lived together on a farm, working hard days to put food on the table and help their uncle out. Garrow had taken in Eragon and Murtagh at a very young age, when their mother Selena came to Carvahall after seven years of absence. She brought with her the two year old Murtagh and was heavily pregnant at the time. Selena had been Garrow's younger sister, and after giving birth to her youngest son and naming him Eragon, she had begged her brother to raise the two boys before disappearing once more- this time, forever.

Eragon had no idea what she even looked like and Murtagh could barely put a face to her name when he really tried to recall her. Roran had also been extremely young when Selena had come to their home, so he didn't remember her face either. Only Garrow remembered, and he often said it had been so long he was beginning to forget his little sister's face himself. No one had any idea who the boys' father was.

It troubled the brothers when they were younger, but not so much anymore. Marian had been a great mother to them up until her death a few years back, so Eragon and Murtagh were content. Roran was as much a brother to them as they were to each other and Garrow was plenty a father for them.

After a short while, Eragon and Murtagh had taken what they needed from the deer and left the rest for the wolves. Both were happy with the catch, even though they would have to go hunting again soon.

* * *

Garrow was beyond pleased with the buck.

"Well done, you two." He set aside the hoe he'd been using on the fields with Roran, who came up to admire the meat the two boys carried.

"The legendary hunters have returned." Murtagh grinned.

Roran smirked and nodded towards the house. "Well don't just stand there "legendary hunters," get it inside before the flies have their way with it."

Eragon punched his shoulder teasingly. "Isn't there a girl you need to be flirting with?"

The youngest boy danced away from his cousin's humorous right hook, laughing until Garrow broke them up with a chuckle. "Alright boys, enough. Eragon, Murtagh, get the meat inside and start making something for us to eat. Roran and I are just about done for the day."

"Yes, uncle." Eragon nodded and followed his older brother inside to start getting dinner ready.

* * *

When night rolled around, Garrow began discussing his plans for the upcoming winter with the boys while they ate. "The traders are rather late this year. I hope they make it around, but you can never be too careful. I'm going to buy another goat tomorrow in town. You three are coming with me. Roran is supposed to meet with a miller from Therinsford called Dempton, so he'll be working there for most of Winter. Eragon, Murtagh, you two are going to stay and help with the farm."

"By the way, uncle." Murtagh briefly interrupted. "I might've gotten a job working at Horst's."

Garrow nodded. "Let me know how your talk with him goes. If you end up working for Horst, then I'll divide your duties here with his. Eragon and I can manage most of the farm on our own. It'll be a bit easier with only three mouths to feed."

"Glad you're happy to see me go." Roran said jokingly.

Garrow chuckled at his son and ruffled his hair. "For once, someone else will have to put up with your snoring."

"I don't snore!"

"You do too!" Eragon grinned at him widely. "It's like an angry elephant at night!"

"And you would know what an elephant sounds like, would you?" Roran shot back.

Murtagh snickered and joined in. "Well, since you're a shining example of one, I suppose we do."

The four men continued their playful banter until dinner was finished and the table was cleaned up. Not long after, they went to bed, exhausted after the day's events.

* * *

Sometime in the night, Eragon was woken to a loud cracking sound that made him jump. His gaze darted around until Murtagh walked in with an equally surprised look.

"What was that?"

"No idea. Let's go find out."

Eragon nodded and grabbed his bow and quiver, just in case. Murtagh brought his own bow as well, but neither of them opted to wake their still-sleeping cousin and uncle. No point worrying them in case it was nothing.

As they got outside, Murtagh noted a bit of smoke in the trees. He scanned the sky and frowned. "It's not stormy tonight, but was that a lightning strike?"

Eragon started towards the smoke and muttered. "One way to find out."

They had reached the trees when a second loud cracking sound echoed through the woods. The brothers instantly had arrows nocked on their bows and waited for something to happen. When nothing did, they cautiously walked around the trees they hid behind and saw that a second trail of smoke was starting to rise.

Murtagh silently motioned for Eragon to flank right and he left, which his younger brother did without hesitation. The two worked their way around the two smoke wisps, then carefully started moving towards them. Eragon craned his neck over a large shrub to get a better look.

What he saw surprised him. Two round, ovular objects, colored red and blue respectively were lying side by side, surrounded by burn marks. The red one was smoking more, revealing it to be the most recent cause of the cracking sound. Eragon carefully prodded one with an arrow and then quickly stepped back, but nothing happened even after several moments.

He made a quiet whistle to alert Murtagh that there was no danger and put his bow and arrow up. Murtagh did the same and both boys knelt to inspect their find.

Murtagh arched an eyebrow. "What in the blazes are these?"

"No idea." Eragon replied, studying the objects. He carefully laid his hand on the blue one and was surprised by how smooth it was. Each stone (he assumed they were stones) was roughly the size of a human head. Neither boy had ever seen anything like them.

"This is weird." Murtagh muttered as he picked up the red stone, gently turning it in his hands. "Are they…magic?"

Eragon paused at the idea. "Well…I'm no magician, but they could be. Do you think they were meant for us?"

"That's rather far-fetched." His older brother scoffed. "Still…I'd say let's keep this to ourselves for now. Garrow and Roran don't need to know about them if it doesn't hurt anyone. The traders are expected to get into town tomorrow, so we can get them appraised and see if they're worth anything. It's not as though we have any use for them."

"I guess so." Eragon agreed. "And we could use the extra money."

"Then that's settled." Murtagh got up and carried the red stone with him, glancing at Eragon. "You keep the blue. Red is my favorite color. Finder's keepers."

Eragon snorted. "I found them first, but no argument here. Mine is better."

"Yeah, right."

So they took their odd discoveries back to their rooms, where they were carefully hidden and the brothers didn't give a second thought to the two stones for the remainder of the night.


	2. The Hatching

_Chapter Two: The Hatching_

As expected, the traders arrived in Carvahall the next day. Eragon and the rest of his family went to town with their crop and intentions to trade. It was an annual ritual Garrow had performed all his life. This year, luck had been good to them, and Eragon was delighted when his Uncle gave him a little extra coin for his upcoming sixteenth birthday.

Eragon and Murtagh had brought both stones in their packs. Murtagh recalled a jewelry trader they had met last year called Merlock. Sure enough, the man was dealing his goods to ladies, who gushed at his trinkets and exotic items. The brothers patiently waited until they were done before approaching the trader.

Merlock recognized the pair instantly and grinned. "Well, you boys are starting to look like men at last! Have you come looking for something special? Perhaps you've met a lady and intend to woo her, eh?"

Murtagh chuckled. "Not this time around. We've got something we'd like to sell."

The trader perked up with interest. "I see. Shall we pay a visit to my tent? Let us observe what it is you have."

They entered Merlock's tent and sat down with him. Murtagh nodded to Eragon and each brother pulled out their stones. The trader whistled as he judged the items with a practiced eye.

"Well, what do we have here…?" He wondered aloud. Merlock decided to take the blue stone (seeing as they were both pretty much the same general size and shape) and started to examine it. After tapping the stone in several places, measuring, weighing, and taking closer inspection, the trader handed the stone back to Eragon.

"Where did you find these?"

"The forest," Murtagh answered. He didn't go into detail regarding their sudden, seemingly magical arrival.

"I see…" Merlock seemed to be thinking hard. He shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have no idea what they are worth, and from the looks of things, neither do you. I'm not willing to risk buying them, even if there is someone who might pay dearly for such items in the southern cities. Whatever they are, they're extraordinary. Assuming the red is the same as the blue, both stones are made of something I have never encountered. In addition, they're harder than any rock I've seen, even diamond. If I brought a hammer to them, I'd need a new hammer. Also, they're hollow."

Eragon arched an eyebrow. "Hollow?"

Quick as a snake, Merlock took a dagger and slapped the flat end of it against the blue stone. A clear ringing sound filled the tent. Eragon checked the stone for damage, but as the trader had said, there wasn't a scratch.

"Whatever they are, I think it's possible they could've been crafted by magic," Merlock concluded. "I can't say I have any notion of what they're worth, but you'll have to find someone else if you wish to sell."

"Thanks," Murtagh said as he returned the red stone to his pack and stood up to shake the merchant's hand. "I'm sorry we couldn't come to a deal, but it's been good learning about these stones. Maybe we'll find someone that knows what they are."

"Be careful," warned Merlock. "Magic items aren't to be shown off lightly. If someone wants these stones badly enough, they might stoop to…unfortunate methods in order to obtain them."

Eragon decided he would heed that warning. He placed the blue stone in his pack, shook the trader's hand, and followed his brother back outside.

Murtagh scratched his chin. "Well, it's too bad we couldn't sell them, but they're interesting enough. Guess I'll keep mine. Any plans, little brother?"

"I was thinking about visiting Brom's place," Eragon suggested. "The old man always has a good story to tell around my birthday. Maybe he knows something about the stones."

"Aye, that's possible," he replied thoughtfully. "Well, you go do as you please. I think I'll go find Roran."

Eragon smirked. "You just want to tease him and Katrina, don't you?"

"What are brothers for?" grinned Murtagh mischievously. "And let's be honest, they need to just get it over with already. Roran's been talking of marriage with her for far too long. I'm tempted to lock them in a room together until they agree to wed."

"Sloan would have your head for that."

"Not if I took his first," Murtagh glowered at the mention of the butcher, who happened to be Katrina's father. None of Garrow's family particularly liked Sloan. For some reason, he just found cause to be difficult with them. The last time they had gotten into an argument over the price of meat, Murtagh and Sloan had come to blows. Murtagh was subsequently banned from the butcher's shop and Sloan looked even less appealing than he did before.

Murtagh really had enjoyed breaking Sloan's nose. Even Eragon admitted the punch had been perfect.

"Well, I'll go find Brom, then," Eragon decided. "I'll see you at Horst's?"

"As if I could resist their cooking," his brother chuckled, then headed off to do his own thing- taunt Roran.

Eragon, meanwhile, sought out the town's old storyteller, Brom.

* * *

Brom's house was more of a shack than anything, but it was the most interesting place Eragon had ever seen. Inside were old maps, scrolls, and the greatest treasure was the vast amount of knowledge Brom kept in his head. As a child, Eragon had snuck away from home numerous times simply to come to Brom's door and listen to a story. Garrow would always chastise him for it, but Brom assured his uncle that Eragon's unexpected visits were no harm done.

Eragon had only rapped on the old door once before it opened slightly to reveal the old man. Brom smirked at him.

"He finally shows up, eh?" chuckled Brom. "I see you've gotten no taller, despite it being your sixteenth birthday on the morrow."

"Ha ha, you're funny old man," Eragon replied sarcastically, but in good-nature. Brom grinned a bit more and pulled out his pipe before pointing at Eragon's usual seat.

"Well, sit down. Any requests for stories? One you've heard before, or something new?"

Eragon arched an eyebrow, "Your memory is getting worse, old man. Don't you remember what I asked just last week?"

Brom laughed and merely patted the boy's shoulder. "Of course I do, I was just making sure your memory wasn't getting bad, either. You wanted a dragon's story for your birthday, no?"

Excitement rushed through him. Even though he was no longer a boy, Eragon loved hearing stories about dragons. Brom knew so much about them and Eragon was eternally grateful for whoever had taught him such things.

"Well, then," Brom lit his pipe and took a brief smoke before breathing it out in a sigh. "Shall I tell you of the Rider's fall? Or would you prefer something of a happier note?"

"That sounds good," Eragon said eagerly. He had yet to hear this tale. It was one Garrow had spoken of before, but none of the boys had been older than five when last Brom had told it.

Brom took another smoke from his pipe, gathering his thoughts before he began. "There was a time when Alagaesia was inhabited by men riding upon mighty dragons. Their mission was to protect and serve the people of these lands, and for thousands of years, the Riders succeeded. But alas, these happy times were not meant to last forever.

"One young Rider named Galbatorix was trained from a young age. When his training was completed, he and his dragon flew off into the wilderness, reveling in their new powers. But he was arrogant and in a terrible ambush by Urgals, his dragon was slain and his mind turned mad."

"When he returned to the Riders, Galbatorix demanded they grant him a new dragon to replace the female who had died protecting him. The Riders saw madness and turned him away, but even in his madness, Galbatorix was cunning, if nothing else. He secretly took under his wing a young Rider by the name of Morzan, teaching him dark arts and forbidden spells. Together, they stole a dragon hatchling and slew its poor Rider. Galbatorix enslaved his new, black dragon to his will and named him Shruikan. When Morzan finished his dark training and Shruikan became fully grown, Galbatorix struck."

"The Riders were unprepared for the ferocity of his attack and didn't expect that twelve of their own would betray them for their own selfish desires. With Morzan, they became the thirteen Forsworn. As they slew dragons and Riders alike, Galbatorix grew in power and he finally was able to challenge Vrael, the leader of the Riders in combat. Though Vrael was mighty, he hesitated at the final blow, unable to take his own student's life. Galbatorix had no such reservations though and beheaded his old master before declaring himself King of Alagaesia. And thus he has ruled us since."

Brom let out a long sigh of smoke and gazed at Eragon warily. "Don't tell anyone of this story. If the Empire finds out I've recited it, they'd have me killed within a month. The King is not fond of people who know his true background. He is not a benevolent ruler and his dragon is not a wise being as the others were."

Eragon frowned. "I wonder if Shruikan would turn on Galbatorix if he managed to be freed of the King's slavery."

"Be careful where your mind takes you, Eragon," Brom warned. "That dragon is not a friend to any being. His mind has been thoroughly broken by the King. Sad it is to say, he is but a beast now, and beasts cannot be reasoned with."

"I suppose," Eragon shrugged and then realized he'd forgotten his second reason for being here. "Oh, that's right! Murtagh and I found something in the woods yesterday. I was wondering if you might know what they are."

The old man arched an eyebrow. "So help me if you bring something poisonous into my house…"

Eragon pulled out the blue stone and Brom's eyes visibly widened. He forgot his pipe for a moment and started to choke on smoke. After taking a rapid drink of water, the old man gave Eragon an intense look which startled the boy. "Where did you find this?"

"Th-the woods," Eragon stammered, taken aback by Brom's ferocity.

Brom gazed at the stone and placed his palm on it almost reverently. He looked back up to Eragon with his eyes in disbelieving shock. "You said Murtagh has another one like this?"

"Yes, but it's red…" he replied slowly. "What are they?"

Brom took a few more smokes off his pipe, thinking hard. He eventually took Eragon's hand and set it on the stone, as if waiting for something to happen. At some point, his eyes briefly narrowed and he muttered quietly.

"Listen to me, Eragon. You must do exactly as I say."

"What are-"

 _"_ _Exactly,"_ Brom interrupted him, glaring into his eyes with a serious look that silenced the boy. "As I say. Take this stone home and tell no one of it. I mean _no one_. Not Garrow or Roran. Tell Murtagh to do the same. Have you spoken to anyone else of these..stones?"

Eragon nodded. "Just a trader. We thought about selling them, but he said he had no idea what they were worth…"

The incredulous look in Brom's eyes gave him pause, as if the old man was reassessing Eragon and amounting him to a complete fool. After a moment, Brom set his pipe aside and asked quietly. "Did you find anyone with these stones? A person?"

"No," Eragon answered. "They just sort of…appeared. Murtagh and I heard a cracking noise last night, kind of like lightning. We went outside to check it out and then the same sound happened a second time. There was smoke a few paces into the woods. We went looking for it and…there they were. Brom, what are they?"

"Something which must be kept secret above all else," Brom said grimly. "Eragon, find your brother and hide them in the woods, somewhere only you two know of that no one else will find. Do not bury them, but hide them and tell no one of where they are."

"You're not answering me," Eragon muttered in frustration. "Are they dangerous? If they are, then we need to get rid of them."

Brom set his hand on the boy's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "They are not dangerous to you. That is all you need to know right now. You'll find out more in due time, boy. For now, go find your brother and be quick about it."

* * *

"Why not just get rid of them?" Murtagh asked.

Eragon shrugged. They were walking through the forest a few miles off from their house. It was in a part of the Spine, the massive mountain range that no person dared to venture. Well, except for them. Eragon traveled the Spine frequently for hunting. Murtagh was less adventurous there, but he too braved its dangers from time to time.

He figured if there was a great place to hide these stones, it was the Spine.

"Brom said they were important, but he didn't say why," Eragon grumbled. "I thought the old man had a heart attack when I pulled the stone from my pack."

"All the more reason to permanently get rid of them," Murtagh argued. "When was the last time you saw Brom afraid of anything?"

"He wasn't afraid," Eragon defended the old man. "He just looked shocked. Like really surprised."

His brother rolled his eyes. "It's mostly the same thing…"

"This is it," Eragon paused in front of a massive oak. For whatever reason, this tree was just way bigger than any other he'd seen in the forest. He'd spent plenty of time here when he first began investigating the Spine. It was a landmark and it gave him a good vantage point to spot potential game trails.

He looked up at the thick branches. "There's a large hollow up there about twenty feet up. It's easy enough to get to. Let's just put them up there-!"

Suddenly, his pack wobbled.

Eragon immediately pulled the pack off like it was a snake and opened it up, letting the stone fall out. It wobbled again and seemed to be moving towards him. He backed up quickly and grabbed his bow, nocking an arrow on it.

Nearby, Murtagh had also backed away from the stone when the red one in his hands practically jumped. He cursed and let it hit the ground, pulling out a hunting knife in case it was dangerous. The red stone gravitated towards him for a moment and then paused. Eragon's blue stone also froze at the same time.

Silence filled the woods.

"…"

"…"

"…."

"…is that it?" Murtagh asked slowly.

"Not sur-"

 _Crack._

The boys froze and stared as cracks showed up along the blue stone. Something was breaking it…from the _inside_.

 _Crack. Crack!_

Murtagh jumped as the red stone started to crack as well. The blue had a head start and started to wobble vigorously, more cracks popping up over its surface. The red wasn't far behind, but the blue was the first one to split open entirely.

Eragon stared, frozen in shock as a small, scaly head poked through the stone's broken surface and a gangly, awkward body followed. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, simply watching the shimmer of blue scales and ivory white teeth as they plucked at the membrane encasing the creature's body.

He spared a glance to the red one and saw a similar creature clawing its way out of the stone prison, but this one had scales like rich red wine. Murtagh's jaw was hanging open as both he and Eragon came to terms with what had just happened.

The small creatures, hardly bigger than a small cat, scurried free of their stones- correction, _eggs_ , and made chittering sounds in the revelry of their freedom.

 ** _Dragons_** _,_ Eragon thought in stunned disbelief. _They were_ ** _dragon_** **_eggs_** _all along…_

Neither one of the hatchlings had noticed the boys yet or even the other dragon. They were busy cleaning themselves of their yolk, lapping with quick tongues. Eragon made to take a step back and accidentally broke a twig.

The dragons' heads snapped up instantly and observed him. Eragon kept very still and his eyes flicked up as Murtagh mouthed silently to him. _Don't. Move. A muscle._

Movement or not, a breeze blew from behind Murtagh and carried his scent to the little dragons, who turned and stared at him as well. Their eyes were intelligent and strong. Eragon kept his arrow nocked and Murtagh his knife, just in case the two hatchlings attacked, but their worries were for naught. In a few moments, the dragons seemed to lose interest and took a minute to observe and sniff each other.

The blue dragon had a regal appearance even for something so young and small. As it stretched its wings, Eragon took note of their size, realizing that the wings were several times longer than the dragon's lithe body. It had white claws and spikes which ran along its spine, and its eyes were a fierce icy blue.

The red was similar in its noble attitude, holding its head as high as it could while it inspected its fellow dragon. Its claws and spines were snowy white, similar to the blue's. However, its body appeared thicker and stockier. The red's eyes were a deep ruby red, and it appeared to be just slightly bigger than the blue.

After investigating each other, the dragons took to taking in their surroundings. It was amusing at first. The blue tripped over a root once with a loud squeal, then scrabbled to get back up and maintain some form of dignity. It then sniffed itself over, as if making sure everything was still in place.

The red was equally entertaining. It caught sight of a grasshopper and tried to pounce on it, squeaking in surprise when the little insect flew off. The red dragon scrambled away from its shocking discovery and hit the nearby tree, which caused it to make another loud squeak.

Murtagh slowly put his knife up and couldn't help but smirk slightly at the red's antics. "Huh. Not as ferocious as we've heard, are you?"

The blue settled its gaze on Eragon again and stumbled towards him. At this point, Eragon had put up his bow and arrow, and simply taken to watching the little dragons awkwardly moving around. It was almost cute.

He slowly knelt down and sat on one of the tree roots, smiling tentatively at the little creature. Murtagh took the same initiative and took a seat on the ground, chuckling as the red scurried over to him.

Both brothers touched the dragons' heads at exactly the same time.

Icy energy exploded into their veins and Eragon and Murtagh collapsed with shouts. It felt like their blood had turned to flame and then froze over. Everything started to hurt and neither of the brothers found themselves capable of moving. An echo sounded in their ears which resembled a furious scream.

After some time, Eragon found himself capable of sitting up, even though his arm was numb and his hand tingling violently. A silver white mark, circular in shape had formed on his right hand. He cast a glare at the blue dragon, who merely blinked at him innocently from its place beside him. It crooned for his attentions.

Murtagh was up a minute or so later with a groan. He rubbed his forehead as though he had a headache and squinted accusingly at the little red dragon perched happily in his lap. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

The red merely gave a happy chirp and nuzzled Murtagh's arm. He froze, but none of the pain from the first contact reached him. Hesitantly, he brought his left hand to touch the dragon's flank, noting a scar identical to Eragon's present. While his arm tingled, it did not hurt this time, and Murtagh decided that the dragon was safe- for now.

He shrugged at Eragon and the younger boy gave into the whining dragon next to him. He scratched the dragon's chin and it let out a purr like a cat, subsequently arching its back when he caressed the creature's neck.

The brothers silently spent a few minutes with the hatchling dragons before looking at each other again.

"Well, that explains why Brom wanted them hidden," Murtagh grunted.

"Yes…" Eragon shook his head in bewilderment, his gaze locked with the gorgeous, light blue eyes of the dragon- _his_ dragon. He paused as he felt the odd sensation of his mind being touched by something foreign, something filled with curiosity. It took but a minute for him to realize that this feeling was coming from the dragon.

And hunger.

At the same time, Murtagh's dragon let out a needy whine, like a puppy begging for food. Eragon grabbed his pack and pulled out some dried meat that he'd brought along from the deer kill yesterday. He tossed half to Murtagh and then kept the rest for his own dragon.

The blue eagerly looked at the treat in his hand and licked its lips in anticipation. Eragon held his hand out with a piece of the meat in his palm, and a moment later the dragon's head snapped forward and took the piece in its sharp teeth. Without bothering to chew it, the dragon scarfed the meat down and swallowed it whole. Eragon chuckled at its ravenous appetite and offered a little more, which the dragon eagerly accepted.

When both hatchlings were full and had taken to settling in the brothers' laps, Eragon and Murtagh took the chance to finally talk about this new development.

"So, are we Dragon Riders now?" Eragon wondered.

Murtagh cast a glance at his small, red dragon and snorted. "Do you think you could ride them as they are? More importantly, what are we going to do about them? Obviously Brom knew these were dragon eggs, but why on earth were they sent here?"

"…" Eragon considered what he knew of the old man and speculated carefully. "I think it's safe to say that they weren't supposed to be sent here. I'd bet my last coin that they were intended to be sent to Brom. The old man probably isn't just some common village storyteller. Someone tried to send the dragon eggs to him and messed up.

"Messed up by ten miles. That's a pretty big mistake," Murtagh scoffed. "But still…"

"Should we raise them?" Eragon asked, almost hopeful.

His older brother chewed his lip thoughtfully for a while before speaking. "I think…we should take care of them for now. Dragons aren't pets by any means, but they seem harmless enough as they are. I say we tell Brom they hatched and hand them over to him. They're supposed to be his, right?"

"I guess so," he muttered. Eragon was a bit disappointed. He didn't want to give away this dragon- he wanted to keep it and take care of it.

"So, we need to keep them somewhere no one will find them, right?" Murtagh reminded Eragon. "Do you think they'll stay in the tree?"

"One way to find out."

The boys jumped, momentarily waking their dozing dragons as their eyes flew to the side.

Brom was there, and smirking at the sight.


	3. Growing

_Chapter Three: Growing_

"Brom!" Eragon exclaimed, surprised and relieved to see the old man. In his lap, the little blue dragon woke up with a complaining whine, unhappy that the boy had woken it from its nap.

Brom held up a finger to his lips and waited until the blue hatchling had settled back to sleep. Murtagh's red dragon hadn't stirred at all, and was sleeping so hard that it made raspy little snores.

When things were calm again, Brom quietly walked over and sat between the boys, gazing from one dragon to the other. He couldn't stop smiling and shook his head after a while, keeping his voice low.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"And greedy," Murtagh added. "Don't forget the part where they ate all our lunch."

Brom chuckled. "That's normal for hatchlings. They'll eat a great amount of food in their first few months. Their growth is astonishing. Make sure they are well-fed."

"Aren't you taking them?" Eragon asked, silently hoping he was wrong.

Delight filled him when Brom shook his head. "No. They are your dragons now. The marks on your hands are evidence of that- the Gedwey Ignasia, the shining palm. Its the mark of the Dragon Riders."

"I thought these eggs were supposed to go to you," Murtagh frowned, confused.

The old man frowned at that. "They were not. I'm as surprised as you two are. These eggs should not be here, but I am glad that they are. That they hatched for you two of all people…"

"What do you mean, hatched for us?"

"Dragon eggs given to the Riders don't just hatch on their own," Brom informed them. "They remain dormant until they find the one that is destined to be their Rider. The dragons will wait forever if they have to. They simply will not hatch for any reason less than sensing the presence of their Rider."

Eragon couldn't help but grin widely at the little blue dragon in his lap. "And they chose _us_ …"

"Both of you are historic now," remarked Brom. When the brothers looked to him curiously, he explained. "In no instance to my knowledge have two dragons hatched at exactly the same time for their Riders. This is a first for me, as well."

Murtagh set his hand on the flank of the little red dragon, feeling it breath beneath his palm. He glanced at Brom. "So now what? You say we're Dragon Riders now, but…where does that leave us?"

The old man's face became very serious indeed. "That is something you must think over, and think over hard. You both as you are now enigmas- having chosen neither one side, nor the other. Will you join Galbatorix and rule over the Empire as his servant? Or will you join the Varden, the fighters for freedom and attempt to overthrow the mad king? This is a choice you must both make."

"Understand this, however. Whichever choice you choose, your lives have been forever changed. From this moment onward, you are Dragon Riders, and you will be have to fight with that title one day. Fight for your lives and for the lives of those around you. Battles, many great battles you two aren't even aware of have been waged with your fates at stake. Last I heard, the Varden were the ones who had possession of these eggs, but now that they have come to you and hatched, you must pick a side."

Eragon and Murtagh stared at each other. The concept of them being Dragon Riders and fighting in wars seemed absolutely ridiculous. Not half an hour ago, they were just trying to hide a couple of rocks in a tree. Now they were partnered with dragons and had the fate of Alagaesia in their hands.

It was an immeasurable amount to take in.

Brom glanced at both boys and let out a sigh. "Don't decide right now. Think on it. In the meantime, let's set up a shelter for your dragons. They can't go home with you. I shall keep an eye on them in your absence."

Eragon nodded and paused. "We should name them, shouldn't we?"

"Not now," Brom shook his head. "It was common for both the Rider and dragon together to decide the dragon's name. Right now, they're simply too young to effectively communicate with you. Give it a few weeks. When you can hear them, then we'll discuss names."

"What do you mean, hear them?" Murtagh asked.

The old man's eyes twinkled with what might've been mischief. "You'll understand when it happens. Now put your dragons in your packs for now so they can stay warm. We need to start constructing a shelter."

* * *

Brom had been right about the dragons growing fast.

Eragon and Murtagh were astounded. Within a week, the both dragons had doubled in size. Their heads soon came up past the boys' knees. They realized then why Brom had insisted on building a large shelter even when they were small- they grew exponentially.

The old man stayed with the dragons whenever the boys had to be elsewhere, telling them that he'd informed some of Carvahall's natives of him taking a brief trip out of town so no one would miss him. Only Garrow and Roran noticed any odd behavior of Eragon and Murtagh, but they simply stated that they were doing some extra hunting for winter and brought back the odd bit of game to back their claim up. So their uncle and cousin never questioned it beyond that.

During this time, Brom educated them about the basics of dragons- their growth rate, when they breathed fire, and how large they would get. To the brothers' astonishment, they found that the two dragons would never stop growing and, if they lived long enough, could be as large as hills.

In addition, Brom also revealed the gender of their dragons after about a week had passed. He identified Eragon's dragon as a female and Murtagh's a male. Furthermore, he impressed onto them the importance of the two dragons- for Murtagh's was one of but two other males and Eragon's was the very last female dragon in existence.

Eragon prided himself on that. Even if Murtagh's dragon was larger and seemed a bit more built for fighting, his dragon was sleek, elegant, and unique even amongst her own kind. She seemed to know it too, and took on an air of pride which Murtagh deduced was vanity.

He had needed to bandage his finger after he said that out loud. She didn't take kindly to rude remarks.

Murtagh's dragon was quite the relaxed fellow. He was by no means lazy, but he seemed to just have a happier outlook on the things around him. Sometimes his head would bob slightly to a beat only he seemed to hear. When Brom brought out a simple flute, the dragon squealed in joy and swayed happily to the sound.

That made Murtagh decide he should find a sort of instrument to play at some point. Dragon Riders were expected to be refined, he deduced when questioned about it. But Eragon knew he just wanted to learn so that he could make his dragon happy.

As the dragons grew, their mental connections to their partners grew as well. Eragon and Murtagh could constantly sense the dragons, frequently brushing consciousnesses with them throughout their days. Both dragons would respond in kind, sending warm feelings their way, but never more.

At a month old, Eragon's dragon was at a size such that its shoulder reached his elbow and Murtagh's was equally large, but deeper in muscle and thickness. Their cute squeals became growls and roars, and their scales hardened into armor. Fangs became daggers and claws became spears, but there would be no flame until the dragons turned roughly six months old.

That was also the time when they started flying. Eragon remembered shouting in wonder when his blue dragon took the initiative and leapt out of the massive oak tree to take to the skies. It started as merely a glide and turned into an upward climb until he could hardly see her. Then she dove back down and encouraged the red male to do the same, which he eagerly agreed to.

Whatever fear the boys' had initially had of their dragons becoming prey to a larger predator vanished quickly. Murtagh was practically glowing when his dragon returned one day with a deer clamped in his jaws. Eragon's dragon had to help the red one carry it back through the air.

The dragons were growing fast, and the brothers knew that their lives were changing at an equal pace.

* * *

 _Eragon._

Eragon stirred from his rest against the massive oak and looked at his dragon. She was staring at him with her intelligent eyes, and blinked slowly. Her mind brushed his once again.

 _Eragon._

He blinked back and thought. _Is that…you?_

 _Yes._

Eragon's jaw dropped. So this was what Brom had meant when he told the boys they would hear their dragons.

"She's communing with you, then."

Brom's voice broke Eragon out of his trance. He nodded shakily at the old man, who chuckled. "Good. It's about time, but there was no rush. All things meant to be will come to in due time."

"Can we…" Eragon lifted his hand and scratched at the joint of her head and neck, a spot she was very fond of. His dragon hummed gratefully as Eragon glanced between her and Brom. "Can we name her now?"

He yelped as her tail made a light whip on his arm. She had stopped humming and was giving him a disapproving look, emphasized through their mental link. She was right there in front of them and she would be included in this conversation as any other person. Eragon paused and reworded his question. "I'm sorry…can we name _you_ now?"

 _Yes._

Brom smirked at the mildly offended dragon and looked over to where Murtagh and his dragon were snoring beside each other. The sight seemed to amuse him, and he walked over to Eragon where they might speak quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping pair. "I'll go through a list of dragon names I'm familiar with. Let's see if she likes any of them."

"Okay," agreed Eragon.

"Good. Let's see now…we have Ophelia, Miremel, Lenora…Elise, Rosen, and Belladora…"

Brom went through many names for female dragons, but she rejected them all until he was just about out of ideas. The old man finally sighed the last name out, almost too quietly for Eragon to hear. "…and Saphira…"

The female's eyes glowed. Her leathery wings ruffled slightly as she looked back to Eragon.

 _Saphira._

He could sense her approval and smiled. _You like that one?_

 _Yes,_ she hummed happily. _Saphira. That is my name._

Eragon rubbed her chin. Saphira leaned into his affection and let out a purr of satisfaction.

He looked at Brom and murmured. "She says her name is Saphira."

An odd look filled Brom's face, but it was gone quickly. He gazed at the blue female and nodded, smiling every so slightly. "It suits her."

A loud yawn was heard as the red dragon awoke from his nap with Murtagh. He prodded his Rider with his crimson snout, urging him to wake. Eragon's brother reluctantly opened his eyes and patted his dragon's shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, I'm up…"

The dragon nuzzled Murtagh's chest, who chuckled and picked up a piece of meat from beside him. With a grateful croon, the red male carefully took the morsel from his Rider's hand and swallowed it.

Brom called over to them. "Any luck speaking with your dragon?"

Murtagh glanced to his partner. "Not yet. I guess he's the strong and silent type."

"With the amount of noise he makes when Brom plays his flute, I doubt it," Eragon remarked.

The red looked at Eragon for his comment and seemed to glare at him. He turned his gaze to Murtagh.

 _Murtagh._

Murtagh tilted his head at the dragon. On the outside, he made no show of it, but inside he was quite excited that he could finally hear him. The red male's voice was deep and, perhaps not surprisingly, a bit musical.

 _Yes?_

 _Your nest-mate annoys me._

Murtagh couldn't help but laugh. He picked up a small pebble by his leg and with a quick throw, caught Eragon in the arm.

Eragon yelped and looked at him, startled as both Murtagh and his dragon laughed. The red dragon's laugh was a coughing sound, but the humor in his eyes was undeniably amusement.

The old man grinned. "You've finally communicated with him."

"What do you mean, finally?" Murtagh scoffed. "We've been talking it up for days. We just had to wait for Eragon to catch up."

"Really?" Brom smelled a lie and arched an eyebrow. "Then do tell me what you two have decided on for a name?"

 _Thorn,_ said the dragon.

 _Why Thorn?_ Murtagh asked.

 _Because I will be a Thorn in the side of all of our enemies,_ he explained simply. _I am the color of blood when a Thorn has pierced flesh, and so Thorn I shall be._

 _Then Thorn you are._

"Thorn," Murtagh stated.

Eragon grinned. "And she is Saphira. Saphira and Thorn. Those are our dragons."

 _Yes,_ agreed Saphira, still humming in joy. _Eragon._

* * *

Eragon and Murtagh were eating dinner with Garrow and Roran when their cousin dropped a bombshell on them.

 _"_ _Married?!"_ Eragon stood up abruptly in shock.

"Settle down!" Roran sighed, trying hard and failing to hide the large grin on his face. "I haven't asked her yet. But I'm going to soon."

Murtagh whistled, still trying to absorb that bit of information. "You and Katrina, huh…I mean, I knew you were serious, but I didn't think you were _that_ serious. Even after I caught you two behind Horst's that day the traders came into town-"

He ducked under Roran's hand, which had been trying to smack him. Murtagh chuckled at his furiously blushing cousin and shook his head in an effort to contain his laughter.

"I still want to punch you for that," Roran growled.

"Oh, don't act like it was a big scandal. It was just a little kiss, a peck on the lips, but you looked ready to rip me a new one."

"She was so embarrassed that you saw us!" his cousin exclaimed. "I thought she was going to faint!"

"But your faces were priceless!" Murtagh howled with laughter.

Eragon was starting to grin as he imagined the mortified expressions Roran and Katrina must have had when Murtagh had walked into their private time together, but Garrow interrupted the chatter.

"Alright, that's enough. Roran, when do you plan on asking her?"

"Right after I return from Therinsford," he answered. "It's partly why I agreed to take the job in the first place. I'm going to save up money on the side for our wedding."

Garrow smiled and sighed. "Talking of marriage and weddings…you boys really have grown up. I think I'm starting to feel my age."

"Don't get old on us yet, uncle," Murtagh scoffed. "You're still the only one who can milk the cow. She hates the rest of us."

Guffaws of laughter filled the table, followed by a few slaps on the back for Roran in congratulations. It was heartwarming to know that their family would be extending soon.

But Eragon and Murtagh silently wondered if it would last.

* * *

Roran left a few days later.

The boys and Garrow had prepared a simple sendoff for him. Murtagh gave Roran a hammer he had procured when the traders had been in town a month before. He shrugged when asked about how much it cost, for they all knew Murtagh had a small personal stash of money in case the family had an emergency. But he must have spent every coin in order to buy a tool like the one he gave his cousin. Roran took it gratefully and promised he would take care of it.

Eragon's gift wasn't as expensive, but it was still from the heart. He passed to Roran a small locket- a necklace Katrina could wear, he suggested. The locket was simple, but elegant, and Roran knew Eragon had probably spent his birthday money on the item. He thanked Eragon graciously and then faced his father.

Garrow handed him a small pouch from his pocket. Coins clinked inside as Garrow passed it to Roran. "I've been saving this for you. It's not much, but if you wish to buy a trinket of some kind…"

"Thank you, but I won't be buying any trinkets, father," Roran replied.

"Then do with it as you will," Garrow told him. "It is yours. I have nothing more to give you but a father's blessing, and even if it is worth so little, take it if you wish."

Roran swallowed hard. "I'm honored to have it."

Garrow kissed his son on the forehead and then turned to his nephews. "Do not think I have forgotten either of you, Eragon and Murtagh. It seems time I gave you some words as you are all now heading off into the world. I hope they serve you well."

"Let no one rule your body or mind. Don't allow someone to soil your thoughts. Men may speak of freedom and yet be bound by chains thicker than any slave's. Give them your ear, but not your heart. Respect those in power, but follow no one blindly. Be your own man. Judge with logic and reason, but comment not on the affairs not of your concern. Hold fast to your beliefs and face each new day with equal determination."

Garrow closed his eyes. "Of the affairs of love…I have no advice but to be honest. That is the most powerful tool to unlock a heart or gain forgiveness from someone. That is all I have to say."

He laid his hand on Roran's shoulder and murmured with fatherly love. "Go now, my son.

"I will return as soon as I can," Roran told him.

Garrow smiled. "Good, but there's no rush. Enjoy the world away from here and work hard. Do not worry for us."

With that, Eragon and Murtagh followed Roran away from their farm. Garrow remained behind and watched until they were out of sight.

* * *

They all gathered in front of Horst's home, where Roran would wait for Dempton to meet with him.

Murtagh slapped his cousin on the back. "Well, I guess we'll get some real sleep now that your snoring is far away!"

Roran rolled his eyes. "I'm not even going to try and argue with you."

"We'll miss you," Eragon muttered. "Even if Murtagh doesn't act like it."

His cousin smiled at him and Roran clapped a hand to Eragon's shoulder. "I'll miss you as well. Both of you. When I get back, Katrina will be moving in and our family will just grow from there."

"Until she finds out how loudly you snore," Murtagh snickered.

Roran managed to sock him in the arm, but it only made Murtagh laugh harder. The two embraced anyway and separated on good terms.

They were about to leave town when the brothers saw two figures in black standing in the streets, talking with Sloan beside his house. The butcher was waving his hand and seemed incredibly nervous. After a moment, there was a hiss of dissatisfaction from one of the figures which sent a chill down Eragon's spine.

Sloan went back into his house in a hurry and the figures turned away- only to pause and hiss at the sight of Eragon staring at them with wide eyes. The pair watched him for a moment and then started to approach, like black wraiths gliding over the ground.

He was vaguely aware of Murtagh shaking him, but Eragon's senses were roaring danger as he felt his body freeze against his will. Only one thought passed through his mind:

 _They aren't human…_


	4. The Ra'zac

_Chapter Four: The Ra'zac_

Eragon was utterly frozen, like a deer who'd spotted its hunter. Primal fear crawled up his spine and though his brain was screaming at him to flee, he simply could not move. When the strangers were a few paces away, Murtagh, who had been shaking Eragon to make him move, got in between them and gave the cloaked men a look.

It was a look he'd only given twice before, but anyone who had seen it remembered that expression. When Murtagh was truly angry or someone threatened his family, his eyes turned cold and his face dark in such a manner that it was frightening. The last time he'd given that look to someone was when Sloan had pushed him too far. The time before that was when some older kids had bullied Eragon when the boy was just five.

 _No one_ hurt his little brother like that and got away with it.

Murtagh had terrorized them and sent the bullies fleeing back to their mothers. The strangers didn't have the same reaction, but his deadly threatening look gave them pause.

"Eragon! Murtagh!"

The strangers' heads whipped to the side with an uneasy hiss as Brom came into view. He only had to glance at the pair of cloaked figures before they spun around and bolted off, inhuman in their speed.

Eragon collapsed and sat down hard, eyes wide in shock as he sweated intensely. Murtagh knelt down beside him and held the boy's chin up so he could look his brother in the eyes. He patted the side of his face a few times to get his attention. "Eragon. Eragon, come back to us, little brother."

When Brom came over and Eragon couldn't stop from hyperventilating, Murtagh cursed and broadcast his thoughts to Thorn.

 _I need you to tell Saphira that Eragon needs her. He's had a nasty shock. Also, be on your guard. There are some strange folks in town. They're dangerous._

 _I understand,_ Thorn replied. _We will watch out for the strange ones once Saphira has calmed your nest-mate._

Eragon was unable to respond to anyone until Saphira's clear voice rang into his head, gentle and soothing.

 _Eragon?_

 _Saphira?_

 _Yes. Little one, breathe. You must calm yourself. The danger has passed._

 _I'm sorry, I…I just couldn't do anything. It's as though my body was paralyzed…_

 _I know. I felt your fear, but fear no more. Brom and Murtagh are with you now. You are safe, and they are worried for you. Breathe, Eragon…_

Eragon did as she said and managed to get himself under control. When he finally calmed down, he looked up at Brom and Murtagh. "I'm okay."

"Good," Murtagh grunted, though he seemed relieved. He glared down the road that the strangers had vanished to. "Who were those men?"

"They were _not_ men," Brom said grimly and glanced around town for any suspicious activity. He hoisted Eragon up to his feet and after ensuring the boy could stand up, led them to his house.

The old man dug through the clutter in the only locked chest he kept for his valuables. He pulled out two swords and passed one to each of the boys. "I'm going to have to teach you both how to use these, but for now, let's get out of town. We need to take refuge elsewhere. They will find out where you live quickly enough."

"What about Garrow?" Murtagh demanded.

Brom grunted. "Let me worry about Garrow. You two must get to your dragons and retreat into the Spine until I call for your return. These are not enemies you can fight right now."

"Won't you need these swords to fight them?"

"I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve. Both of you go. Now!"

* * *

The moment they were a safe distance from Carvahall, Eragon and Murtagh met their dragons in the woods. Saphira and Thorn were both agitated, growling at the slightest sounds.

They were a few miles from the farm when Murtagh heard a twig snap and stiffened. _Thorn._

 _Yes?_

 _Can you and Saphira fly with us riding you? Are you both strong enough for that?_

 _We shall do what we must._

 _We're flying. Now!_

Murtagh hadn't even finished speaking to his dragon before he jumped onto Thorn's back, careful to avoid the dangerous spikes. Eragon did the same as Thorn communed with Saphira, then the two dragons lunged skyward.

Eragon caught a glimpse of black and yelped as a sword missed Saphira's wing by mere inches. She gave a furious roar and slapped the attacker with her tail, but he was unfazed. When the stranger jumped up, nearly twenty feet for another stab, he took the still sheathed blade Brom had given him and managed to parry the attack. The two strangers screamed in rage as the dragons got clear of the trees and flew away from them.

Just barely in time.

Adrenaline pumped through both Saphira and Thorn as they flew as fast as they could, putting distance between them and the assailants. Eragon sent Saphira an image of a large clearing deep in the Spine he visited during hunts. She deemed it far away enough that they would be safe and led the way for Thorn and Murtagh.

So the dragons flew through the day and almost into the night.

* * *

Murtagh was curled up against Thorn, wincing in pain. Not from the biting cold air, but from his torn legs. Next to them, Eragon was in the same predicament. None of them had taken into account what would happen to the Riders' legs when they flew the dragons without any padding. Saphira and Thorn's hard scales had rubbed their flesh raw, the result being very painful and bloody.

He groaned, tearing part of his shirt to use as a makeshift bandage. "Damn. We need saddles."

"I hope Garrow is okay," Eragon muttered. "Brom too. Can he really handle those two? What were they, anyhow?"

Murtagh shook his head, unable to answer.

 _They were evil._

Thorn snorted a puff of black smoke, a deep growl in his chest.

 _Brom called them Ra'zac,_ Saphira said. _We know not what they are, but the mad-oath-breaker-king uses them to find dragons. But they are not human. They are foul-poisoned-breath creatures._

 _And we left Brom to protect Garrow and fight them?_ Eragon asked incredulously. _They need help! You saw how high that Ra'zac could jump! How fast it was! Garrow can't fight them and Brom is outnumbered! He didn't even bring a sword for himself!_

 _There's nothing we can do right now, little one,_ she reasoned. _We must have faith that old-white-one can defend himself. He is not weak. You and Murtagh would be a hindrance to him as you are now._

 _But…_ Eragon sagged and dropped his head in defeat. He took a breath and tried again. _We're going back tomorrow._

 _Brom told you to wait for his call,_ Saphira reminded him.

 _I'm not going to just sit here while Brom and Garrow might be dead! We go back at first light._

 _Your stubbornness is like a tick's,_ she growled. _You cling on and on until you are crushed and dead. Must you be crushed before you see reason?_

He didn't answer her and opened his mouth, but before Eragon could get a word out Murtagh grunted. "We go back tomorrow."

Eragon was surprised momentarily. He nodded. "I agree."

Saphira just rolled her eyes while Thorn scoffed. Clearly, the dragons weren't pleased by their Riders' lack of wisdom. Still, they decided they would do so in order to make certain Brom and Garrow were safe at least.

* * *

Eragon was plagued with nightmares that night of the Ra'zac killing those he cared about. First Garrow, then Brom, Roran and Katrina were slain as well. Finally was Murtagh, Thorn, and Saphira.

His agitation was such that they left not two minutes after waking. Apparently, Murtagh had had similar visions in his sleep.

The moment the farm was in sight, both boys froze. A plume of black smoke was rising from their barn.

Fire was blazing as Saphira and Thorn landed. Eragon and Murtagh scrambled off of their dragons and roared at the top of their lungs. "Uncle! Brom!"

Saphira glared about and hissed. _Their scent is here. The Ra'zac must have come._

Murtagh was digging through the wreckage of their house when he shouted. "Eragon! Here!"

He rushed over and found Garrow lying in the wreckage, his face pale and his body covered in burns. Eragon helped Murtagh pull their uncle out of the broken house, then checked for any signs of life.

A weak pulse fluttered beneath his fingers and Eragon gasped. "He's alive!"

"We need to get him to Carvahall," Murtagh decided.

 _The townspeople are here,_ Thorn said suddenly. _We must fly._

 _You and Saphira take the swords and hide. We must stay with Garrow._

The two dragons took off and disappeared just as Horst and his son Albriech came rushing from the path to their farm on horseback.

"Eragon! Murtagh! Are you alright?!"

Eragon shouted back. "Garrow's hurt!"

Albriech stared at the destruction in alarm. "What happened here?"

"We don't know," Murtagh growled. "We were out hunting and then there was an explosion. This is what we found."

"Worry about what happened later," Horst ordered. "Albriech, take Garrow on my horse and get him to Gertrude, now. I'll get the boys back to Carvahall on foot."

He glanced around the destroyed farm and paused. "What sort of beast left these?"

For a moment, Eragon thought he'd found Saphira's footprints or Thorn's, but then he froze when he spotted the track Horst had pointed out. Whatever had left it was many times the size of their dragons, and Eragon shuddered to think what sort of monsters would carry the Ra'zac.

* * *

Not long after they arrived at Carvahall, Eragon's legs buckled from his injuries. Murtagh was stubbornly still standing, but once Horst inspected the wounds they had attained from their flight, the blacksmith sent them both straight to Gertrude.

She had just finished caring for Garrow and didn't hesitate to put some proper bandages on the two brothers. They were exhausted and passed out into her patient beds the moment she had finished wrapping the wounds.

* * *

When Murtagh woke, Eragon was not in the room. Gertrude was washing some cloths that she used for her patients. He sat up and got her attention.

"Oh, you've woken up. Good!" she said. "I just sent Eragon over to Horst's. I'm keeping Garrow there for now and he's gotten some food made for you two. Can you stand?"

Murtagh answered by getting up and despite the pain, he stiffly walked out of the healer's house. Fortunately, Gertrude's home was right across from Horst's and so he did not have to walk far.

Once he stepped inside, Eragon glanced over and his pale face brightened a little. "You're awake."

"You're eating," Murtagh noted the hot food in front of Eragon and grunted. "You didn't eat all of it yourself, did you?"

"Of course not!" he protested.

"Oh, settle down, you two," Elaine walked out of the kitchen with another bowl of food for Murtagh and a smile on her face. "Here you are. Both of you have had a rough time of it the last few days, so eat up and make sure you rest."

Murtagh knew better than to argue with her. Horst's wife was even more stubborn than the blacksmith himself.

After a well-appreciated hot meal, Murtagh set his bowl down and glanced up as Horst walked downstairs. He nodded to the blacksmith. "How's Garrow?"

"Fighting," Horst sighed. "Gertrude just got back in there with him. He's got a fever that just won't break and his injuries exceed both of yours by a great margin. You told me when we found you that you both had been hunting when the house was destroyed?"

"Yes," Eragon replied, but his head was down. "We've gone out a lot lately in the early mornings to get some extra game. We were heading home when we heard the explosion and ran back to see the house on fire…"

Horst nodded and scratched his beard. "You didn't see anyone besides your uncle?"

"No one," Murtagh growled. "But I'd bet it was those two strangers that did it."

The blacksmith's eyes darkened. "I'm inclined to agree with you. They were seen around town the day before this happened. Whoever they are, they are not friendly to us. But whatever tore your house apart was much bigger than either of them. Some beast I have never seen in my lifetime. Does that sound familiar in any way to you two?"

They both shook their head no, and Horst sighed. "I don't like this. There's too much we don't know, but for now, Garrow's health is our first priority. Oh yes, before I forget, I sent Baldor out this morning to give Roran the news in Therinsford."

Eragon froze. He hadn't even thought about Roran this whole time. Garrow was Roran's father- he should have been told immediately.

Horst placed a hand on Eragon's shoulder and spoke gently. "Get back to Gertrude's and get some rest. Or if you want to stay closer to your uncle, there's an extra bedroom here. You may use it if you so choose."

Murtagh dipped his head. "Thanks, Horst."

He grunted in reply and then went outside, leaving Eragon and Murtagh sitting there in silence.

"Do you think Brom is okay?" Eragon asked quietly.

Murtagh shook his head. "I don't know, Eragon. I just don't know."

* * *

Two days later, the worst happened.

Eragon awoke to hear people talking quietly in the next room over. He got up and entered the hallway. The moment he did so, he forgot how to breathe. People were crowding the doorway to Garrow's room. He pushed past them and found what he'd been dreading.

Garrow lay in the bed, dressed in clean clothes. He could have been sleeping, but Eragon knew better the moment he spotted Murtagh sitting beside their uncle. His face was downcast so that dark hair covered his eyes, but Eragon glimpsed a shine on his face that could only be tears. Katrina was sitting across from Murtagh and looked up as Eragon walked in. She stood up and went over to him, leading the boy back to his room.

There, Eragon cried. Katrina wrapped the boy in her arms and spoke soft words to him, doing what she could to soothe Eragon until he had cried himself to an exhausted, troubled sleep.

* * *

Murtagh left Garrow's room shortly after Eragon and went outside. He let the cold air wash over him, clearing his head of sorrow only to replace it with rage.

 _The Ra'zac work for the king? Very well, then. He's made the first move. He killed Garrow. Now I know which side to choose._

Murtagh's fist collided with a tree, cracking his knuckles and causing them to bleed as his teeth ground together in his fury.

 _We're going to take his head!_


	5. Fire

_Chapter Five: Fire_

Eragon was prodding his stew with a spoon half-heartedly when Saphira called for him.

 _Little one._

 _What is it, Saphira?_

 _Brom._

 _What of him? He's probably dead by now._

 _He is not. He is with Thorn and I._

Eragon's eyes widened. Saphira went on.

 _He says to find Murtagh and meet with us by the farm. We must leave this place._

 _What right does he have to say what we're going to do? He couldn't even save Garrow!_

 _Little one,_ Saphira crooned to him, gently brushing her mind against his as she understood his pain. _It is not a question of what he could and could not protect. The king is aware of our presence here. If we linger, more will die. We must leave for their sake. Would you risk innocent lives just to remain here?_

Eragon hesitated and bowed his head when he realized she was right. If the Ra'zac had ripped apart his farm merely to find them or draw them out, he shuddered to think what they would do to the town. He couldn't risk their lives for his. With a sigh, he took one last bite of Elaine's stew and then quietly slipped out of the house.

 _I'll be there soon._

 _I will be waiting for you, little one._

* * *

Murtagh nearly punched Brom the moment he saw him.

He was still furious that Garrow was dead after Brom claimed he could defend their uncle. The old man had failed, and now was a prime target for Murtagh's frustrations.

Brom however, grabbed the young man by his wrist when he swung and twisted it behind him in a painful lock. He grunted warningly. "Try that again and I will break your arm. We can't afford to fight amongst ourselves."

He released Murtagh, who jerked his arm away with a scowl. "What happened? I thought you could fight!"

"I did fight, boy," Brom growled and twisted his head, revealing a wound from where he'd been struck. "But I didn't count on fighting the Ra'zac's steeds as well."

Eragon's eyes widened. "Their steeds?"

"They're called Lethrblaka," the old man told them. "It was just one of the two that I'm aware of, but it's presence surprised me. Even though I had the Ra'zac retreating, they were just leading me to the Lethrblaka. It struck me with its tail and I was knocked unconscious. After that, they must have gone straight to your farm."

"How big are they?" Eragon asked. "We saw footprints…"

"As big as your house was," Brom stated. "A Lethrblaka has the same general size and shape of a dragon, but without the front limbs. They resemble giant bats and are truly intelligent, yet foul creatures."

Thorn let out a hiss. _They are nothing like us! Poison-breath-dark-wings are nothing like dragons!_

Murtagh glared at Brom and spat. "You asked us a while back which side we would choose. The Ra'zac work for the king. Am I right?"

"You are."

"Then his head is the one we go after," Murtagh declared. "The Varden is the group opposing the king, so we will join them."

"I agree," Eragon nodded. "But first, I'm going to hunt the Ra'zac down and kill them. They won't get away with this!"

Brom looked from one brother to another and grunted. "Then we must leave soon. You two have a hard task ahead of you. I will help you on your journey. Neither of you would last long without assistance- you know nothing of the world outside Palancar Valley. Fortunately, I am, and more importantly, I know plenty about dragons as well. You two need saddles for Saphira and Thorn. I've got some leather I bought from town, so let's make them and get moving."

* * *

The boys took turns while Brom made each dragon a saddle. While one brother was with him, the other went to the destroyed house and retrieved any supplies they could. Luckily, they found their bows were undamaged, though many arrows had been destroyed. There was plenty of time while Brom worked on the saddles, so Eragon and Murtagh took the chance to find some good wood and craft more arrows until they had full quivers.

By the time they were finished, it was night and the trio were all weary. Saphira and Thorn were eager to try out their new saddles, but neither brother felt the same at the moment. They just wanted food and sleep so they could be rested for tomorrow.

* * *

The next day, they headed out.

Brom lead the way. "We'll have to drop by Therinsford first. We'll need horses."

"It would be faster if we just rode Saphira and Thorn," Eragon protested.

"There isn't a horse alive that can outrun a flying dragon," Brom scolded him. "They aren't strong enough to carry two men at once and more importantly, you are in no shape to fight Ra'zac as you are. Neither of you can. No, we'll get horses and travel on the ground. That will without doubt take more time, but it will give me a chance to teach you more so you _will_ be prepared when the time comes to fight those creatures."

Murtagh nodded, seeing the sense in it.

The old man took both swords that the brothers had sent with their dragons and handed them back to them. "Do not separate from these again. Both blades belonged to Riders and they are your best weapons against the Ra'zac. Treat them with care. I will teach you how to fight with them as we travel."

They took the blades and unsheathed them, revealing the swords to be blue (Eragon's) and red (Murtagh's) respectively. The weapons seemed to shiver with delight at being free of their covers and were captivating to look at.

Brom touched the blue one by the flat of the blade. "This is Undbitr." He moved to the red and did the same. "And this is Zar'roc. Both weapons belonged to Riders. What their names mean and who they belonged to are things you will learn in due time. For now, we must make haste. The Ra'zac have no doubt got a large lead on us, and hunting them down will be no small task."

Eragon sheathed his sword and frowned at Brom. "Just who are you?"

"One who offers you help down the path to be a Dragon Rider," the old man said simply. "If you want to know more, then I'd suggest you pay attention and learn every chance you get."

"Now let us be off."

* * *

While they walked, the dragons took to the skies and flew over the forests, away from paths where they might be seen. Brom led the way, taking back roads that would get them around Carvahall and to Therinsford more quickly.

The Ra'zac were traveling on the roads as well. The trio picked up their footprints, faint in melting snow, the day before they entered Therinsford. Brom estimated the tracks to be a day old and decided that their enemies were not present in the town. They had likely gone ahead in order to get out of Palancar Valley as quickly as possible.

* * *

That evening around the campfire, once Saphira and Thorn had landed and joined them again, Brom pulled out three sticks and tossed two of them to Murtagh and Eragon respectively.

"Welcome to your new routine for every night you spend on the road," Brom announced.

The boys inspected the sticks and found them to be in the likeness of swords. Murtagh threw a questioning glance at their Rider's blades. "Aren't we going to use those?"

"Ha!" the old man laughed. "You wouldn't be able to swing that sword for more than five minutes right now. Moreover, you know nothing of swordplay and fooling around with a real weapon is likely to result in one or both of you getting yourselves killed. No, I will teach you with these first, then we can talk about real swords. Now, defend yourselves."

Eragon stared at him. "You can't seriously be thinking of taking us both on at once?"

Brom merely gestured with his hand for them to get started already.

The brothers glanced at each other and shrugged, then approached Brom from the front. Suddenly, the old man charged in and swung at Eragon. He tried to block, but Brom was faster and rapped him on the ribs with his stick, causing the boy to yelp in pain. Murtagh took a swing, but the old man parried easily before whacking the elder brother across the face and leaving a cut.

Murtagh swore and lunged again, lashing out at Brom's head. The old man blocked his second stroke just as easily, but winced when Eragon managed to get in a glancing blow on his shoulder. However, there was fire dancing in Brom's eyes as he grinned. "Rudimentary teamwork- good!"

The next second, he'd shoved Murtagh away and spun wide to catch Eragon in the side of the head. There was an explosion of pain and then the boy hit the ground hard, very thoroughly dazed.

He had only moments to recover though, for Brom grabbed a pan with melted snow water and splashed his face with it. Eragon spluttered and sat up, glaring at the old man indignantly. "What was that for?!"

"On your feet," Brom ordered. "I'm not done with you yet. A real enemy will not soften his blows, and neither shall I. Do you want me to be soft on you like a small child? Grow up. You both are Dragon Riders, and I will make you live up to that name whether you like it or not!"

Eragon got up and glared at the stick before tossing it aside. "No. I've had enough of this game."

He turned around, but growled and spun back to the old man after Brom had whacked his shoulder blade with the stick.

"Do not ever turn your back to an enemy!" the old man scolded. He tossed the stick back to Eragon, who caught it reluctantly and circled the fire to stand beside Murtagh again.

Brom attacked again and somehow managed to instruct them as he was beating the brothers senseless. "Pull your arms in and keep your knees bent! Don't stand stock still like a statue, duck and weave! If you don't move, you'll be cut into little bits!"

The process repeated itself for nearly an hour. Brom would fight both Eragon and Murtagh at the same time, then stopped to teach them certain moves. They would then fight him one on one, then together again when Brom said so.

At the end of the night, both of the young Riders collapsed next to their dragons with groans of pain. However old he appeared, Brom was formidable. They were covered in welts and bruises, while the old man looked just fine save a small red mark on his shoulder from where Eragon had struck him at the start.

Saphira and Thorn hummed with laughter. It was funny they said, to see both of the brothers get pummeled by such an old man. Brom seemed to agree with their humor and so passed the two an extra bit of meat.

* * *

The next morning was awful. Eragon woke feeling absolutely battered and so sore that he could barely move. Murtagh looked no better, but Brom seemed to be cheery as he made breakfast.

He grinned when the boys sat up and visibly winced. "Are we feeling better?"

Murtagh ignored him entirely, but Eragon growled and grabbed his food.

They walked into Therinsford the next day, judging the town to be thoroughly ugly in architecture. The houses were set up randomly and nothing appeared to have been built correctly, just altered in a way that would allow the buildings to remain standing.

Murtagh saw a mill that had to be Dempton's and muttered. "Roran's probably back in Carvahall by now."

"I couldn't face him now if I wanted to," Eragon said sullenly.

"I left a note for Roran in your place," Brom informed them. "I cautioned him to be on the lookout for certain dangers. It'll be a while before either of you see him again."

The brothers had no problem with that. Though it was left unspoken, both mutually agreed that they would only be able to face Roran in good conscience when the Ra'zac were dead at their feet.

Brom was leading them to a stable when, as they prepared to cross a bridge over the Anora River, a greasy, mess of a man blocked their path.

"Stop righ' ther. This ere's my bridge," he claimed. "Gotta pay t' get o'er it."

"How much?" Brom asked.

"Five crowns."

Murtagh's eyes flashed as Eragon's temper flared. But Brom seemed calm and simply handed over the money.

The greasy man snickered as he placed the coins in a purse. "Thanks much."

He was about to let them pass when Brom stumbled into him. The greasy man recoiled and grunted irritably. "Watch yerself!"

"My apologies," Brom said, then kept going. Eragon and Murtagh flashed glares at the man, but he ignored them.

Eragon got up beside Brom and hissed. "What are you thinking? There's no way he owns that bridge! He just robbed you!"

"You have much to learn about fools, Eragon," the old man smirked. "And your first lesson on fools is that sometimes, it's better to let them think they are getting their way, then trick them when they feel satisfied."

Coins were glinting in his hand. Murtagh's jaw dropped.

"You cut the…! I didn't even see you do that!"

Brom grinned and flipped a coin. "He had quite a bit in that purse. Very unwise. He'll find out about his misfortune eventually though."

They got to a barn near Therinsford and found a man working with a gorgeous white horse. Murtagh whistled in appreciation.

"That is a magnificent animal," he remarked.

The man looked at them and grinned. "Aye, that he is. He's called Snowfire. My name is Haberth. How can I help you?"

Brom took over. "We need three horses and a full set of tack for all of them. They need to be fast and tough, because we'll be doing a lot of traveling."

Haberth scratched his beard for a moment. "I don't have many of those, and the ones I do own ain't cheap."

"I'll take the best you have," Brom replied.

The horseman first brought out two of his beasts- a bay and a roan. Both animals looked like fine horses. "They're a bit on the spirited side, but both have good legs and run hard if you treat them well."

Eragon took the bay and Murtagh the roan. Murtagh's horse seemed calm, but Eragon's was a bit restless. He hesitantly reached out with his mind and contacted the horse, assuring it that he was a friend. The bay settled down and blinked at him with brown eyes, which Eragon grew fond of rather quickly.

"We'll take them," Brom agreed. "As for the third…how much for Snowfire?"

"I'm not sure I really want to sell him," Haberth said. "He's the finest beast I have ever bred."

"If you were willing to part with him," the old man suggested. "How much?"

Haberth did some math and after a minute or so, gave his price. "Three hundred crowns. No less."

Eragon inwardly shrunk at the price. That was no small amount of money, but Brom just counted out his coin and handed the stack to Haberth. When the horseman found it was the correct amount, he sighed and handed Snowfire's reigns to Brom. "He's yours then."

"I'll treasure him," Brom promised.

Haberth nodded and the three men led their new horses to the road.

* * *

Brom stopped in Therinsford briefly once more to gather information and confirmed that indeed the Ra'zac had passed through. They were several days ahead by then.

"We're going to ride easy the first few days to make sure your legs heal up properly," Brom told them. "It'll be several days riding to get across the plains that lead to the cities in the south. There's plenty of time for us to gather information and for me to teach you more about what being a Rider is all about."

Murtagh was murmuring quietly to his new horse and stroking its mane. "I think I'll name him Tornac."

"Tornac?" Eragon echoed.

"Horst mentioned him to me once," Murtagh said thoughtfully. "He was a blacksmith in Carvahall who moved south and became a captain in the army. A respectable soldier, Horst called him."

Brom nodded approvingly. "It's a good name. And you, Eragon?"

Eragon hesitated, but he decided rather quickly. "Cadoc. It was our grandfather's name."

"Tornac and Cadoc then. And Snowfire, of course," the old man chuckled as he scratched the white stallion's neck fondly. "Let's be on our way then. There's much ground to cover."

* * *

The road gave Eragon plenty of time to bombard Brom with many questions. Things about the Riders, dragons, elves, dwarves, Urgals, whatever he could think of. When the topic of age came up, both Eragon and Murtagh were taken aback.

"Immortal?" he questioned.

"Aye," Brom confirmed. "The elves and dragons are both immortal. Assuming they don't catch an incurable disease or are slain, they will live forever. Some of them have lived for thousands of years already. At least, amongst the elves. The eldest dragons were slain by Galbatorix when he came to power."

Murtagh frowned. "Living forever…it sounds impossible."

The old man chuckled. "I suggest you get used to it, for if you are fortunate, you will live forever as well."

Eragon looked startled. "What?"

"Have I yet to mention it?" Brom wondered aloud to himself. "Perhaps I have neglected this important information. Now that you both are Riders, the bond with your dragons has affected your bodies as well as your minds. For all intensive purposes, you both are as immortal as any elf or dragon alive."

The knowledge stunned and troubled the boys at the same time. They couldn't imagine outliving their family while they remained ageless and unaffected by time.

Brom saw their disturbance. "Don't think too hard on it. You are both young, and it may be that you die young, immortal or not."

 _Not if_ ** _I_** _have anything to say about it,_ Saphira growled in her mind. Eragon was thankful for her protectiveness and sent gratitude to her.

The dragons were flying high over the plains, so that they resembled birds to the untrained eye. It would be almost impossible to identify them as dragons to anyone who was not looking for dragons. Brom had said this was the only way for Saphira and Thorn to remain hidden on the plains- when there was no cover on the ground, simply go up.

* * *

After a few days traveling across the plains, the group came upon the small town of Yazuac. At the entrance, they all paused.

"…it's too quiet," Murtagh commented.

"Yes," Brom agreed.

"Shouldn't someone have seen us by now?" Eragon asked.

"Yes."

"…do we go in?"

Brom chewed his lip. "We do, but with caution."

"From the side of the town, then," Murtagh decided, steering Tornac away from the front gate.

They still encountered no life when entering the town, but at the center they were met with a sight out of their worst nightmares. Eragon paled and choked out, "Oh, gods."

It was a massacre, a pile of bodies of old, young, and everything in between. Impaled with spears and black arrows the likes of which Eragon nor Murtagh had ever seen before. But just looking at the mountain of corpses was horrific.

Brom closed his eyes, silently honoring the dead before he observed the tracks around the mess of bodies. "The Ra'zac were here. But these weapons aren't theirs…The arrows are Urgal made."

"Since when do Urgals come looking for a fight in such numbers?" Murtagh growled uneasily.

"Oh, not for an age…" Brom commented, "There've only been a few instances when they gathered in numbers like this…"

He paused and stared at one massive footprint before swearing and spinning Snowfire around. "Ride! There are still Urgals in this place!"

Eragon and Murtagh spun their horses to follow him, but a moment later there was a furious roar and something grabbed both boys by the faces before hurling them away. The brothers hit the ground hard with shouts of pain and scrambled to their feet, glaring at their attacker.

An Urgal blocked their path to the horses. Behind him, another was engaging Brom, still atop Snowfire.

The beast in front of them let out a grunting roar and lunged with surprising speed. Eragon and Murtagh dove to either side in an effort to confuse it. When the Urgal decided to go after Eragon, Murtagh jumped at it from behind and tried to strangle it. His attempt was fruitless though- for the Urgal's neck was so thick and strong that it did little more than annoy him.

The Urgal reached over and grabbed Murtagh, then threw him aside in contempt. Murtagh hit the ground hard with a curse.

 _Thorn! We need you and Saphira here, now!_

Eragon had taken Murtagh's place on the Urgal's back when his brother had been thrown off. He had no luck choking the monster either, so settled for digging his nails into its flesh, leaving bloody wounds. The Urgal bellowed in fury and snagged Eragon just as it had Murtagh before hurling him away.

Suddenly, the Urgal grabbed an axe and sneered at the boys. It had a complete advantage now.

It swung at Eragon, who scrambled out of the way as the axe came down. When the Urgal turned to follow him, Murtagh swung a fist and punched the beast in the face as hard as he could. He roared at the top of his lungs. "Get away from him!"

The Urgal spat out a broken tooth and roared right back, then delivered a ferocious punch right into Murtagh's gut. The blow knocked the wind out of Murtagh and crashed him against a wall. He slid to the ground, unconscious.

It's business unfinished, the Urgal approached his helpless prey and brandished the axe in preparation to kill Murtagh. Eragon blocked his path and glared at the monster. "Get away, or I'll kill you."

The Urgal laughed maliciously and raised his axe slowly, just to mock the boy in front of him. Further away, Brom managed to kill the Urgal he was fighting, but there was no chance he'd make it in time to save Eragon or Murtagh.

Eragon's right palm, the one with the gedwey ignasia, tingled with some strange energy he didn't recognize. It grew and grew as the Urgal raised his axe and suddenly Eragon needed to set it loose somehow or he felt it would consume him.

With a roar, he lunged straight at the Urgal and punched it in the chest before it could strike him down.

"Brisingr!"

From the point where he'd punched the Urgal, blue flames exploded out, engulfing the beast with a shockwave. The Urgal was killed instantly and its body vaporized. The fire was gone quickly, but there was no further trace of their enemy.

Eragon felt a wave of exhaustion go over him just as Brom ran over with a shout. The boy collapsed to the ground and surrendered to the darkness that claimed him.


	6. Sticks and Stones

_Chapter 6: Sticks and Stones_

It was nighttime when Eragon woke with a groan. His whole body felt incredibly weak. For a moment, he thought he would be sick- he was unusually hungry and nauseous all at once.

 _Little one?_

He blinked. Saphira's voice was gentle, but worried. Eragon realized her head was lying over him, gazing down with a concerned croon.

 _What happened…?_ he asked.

 _You fainted after killing the Urgal. Brom was worried you were dead at first. You overdid it._

 _Overdid…wait…what was it that I did? I remember shouting and then the Urgal just exploded…there was blue fire everywhere…_

 _Brom will explain it to you, Eragon,_ she said. _But tread carefully. I sense you have reached a milestone we were not meant to discover so early on._

 _Alright,_ he winced as he tried to sit up.

"Awake at last."

Murtagh's voice reached him as a grumble. Eragon's elder brother was nursing a wound to his head. It was caked in tried blood and it looked to hurt terribly, but he seemed alright. Thorn was sniffing the wound and seemed worried. The red dragon glanced at him to appraise Eragon's condition, then returned to ensure the welfare of his Rider.

"Nice to see you too," Eragon sat up fully and let out a groan. His head spun and he would have collapsed had Saphira not slipped behind him so he could rest on her.

 _Thank you,_ he told her gratefully.

 _Of course, little one._

Brom stood up and crossed his arms as he tossed some bread at Eragon. "You are without doubt the most reckless boy I have ever met."

"What are you talking about?" he growled, catching the food and biting into it hungrily.

"You nearly got yourself killed, that's what. Do you have any notion of what you did?"

"Not really," Eragon muttered. He swallowed the food and wiped his mouth clean of crumbs. "I remember the Urgal about to kill me and then my palm tingled…I punched it..there was blue fire everywhere."

Murtagh arched a brow. "Blue fire?"

"What word did you say?" Brom asked. "When you struck the Urgal, you shouted something, did you not?"

"Yes…" Eragon fought to remember until it clicked. "Brisingr."

Saphira shivered behind him at the word.

Brom nodded, as if confirming something. "Brisingr…well I suppose you could have chosen worse. Still, causing the Urgal to explode from the inside out was very much overdoing things."

"I don't understand," Eragon scratched the back of his head. "Why did the Urgal explode when I said that?"

"Because you tapped into a power that is exceedingly dangerous and incredible by its very nature," the old man told him. "Magic."

Murtagh's eyes bulged. "Magic?"

"Yes," Brom's eyes hardened. "And I suggest you do not use it again in battle until you have been trained for it. You could have killed yourself today using it. Don't do anything that stupid every again."

"It's not as if I was trying to!" Eragon defended himself indignantly. "Besides, if I hadn't, the Urgal would've chopped my head off!"

"A fact that you should be very grateful for. Still, now that you've gone and discovered magic, I suppose I should give the two of you some basic lessons on it to keep any experimentation at bay. So listen up."

Brom leaned against Snowfire's flank and lit his pipe, smoking a moment before he started to talk. "Magic follows rules that you must abide to without fail. If you try to break a rule, your life will be forfeit. Your strength in magic is limited by your knowledge of its language, the Ancient Language, and your imagination. The word you used today is one from this language. Brisingr."

His eyes flickered down to the dying fire they were camped around and it suddenly roared back to life. Murtagh gasped and Eragon's eyes widened. Saphira and Thorn seemed transfixed by the rippling flames.

"You can use magic too," the younger brother whispered.

The old man smirked at his awe. " _Brisingr_ is the ancient word for fire. It is not just a name for fire, it is _the_ name for fire. Brisingr is fire itself. Today, you unconsciously directed Brisingr to destroy the Urgal, and that is what it did."

"Is it always that blue color?" Eragon asked.

Brom shook his head. "No. The color varies from person to person, but with Riders their spells generally take on the color of their dragons. So Eragon's magic would usually give off an aura of blue whilst Murtagh's would be red. Let me make something very clear though- magic is beautiful and dangerous all at once. It is depended on the energy in your body. You were completely exhausted after you cast the spell because it nearly used up all of the strength you possessed. Had it required any more, you very nearly could have died. Do not experiment with it until you know your limits to a fraction."

"Is this something that was common amongst the Riders?" Murtagh demanded.

"It is," Brom confirmed. "Usually, it was taught at a much later date in the Rider's training. Magic for a Rider originates from their dragons, unless of course the Rider is an elf, in which case magic flows through their veins regardless of a dragon's presence. For you two, the moment Saphira and Thorn hatched for you was the cradle for your potential as a wielder of magic."

Murtagh nodded and gave Brom an even look. "Will you teach us?"

"Not tonight," the old man said firmly. "Tonight, you rest. Both of you. You are wounded and exhausted. Once you have recovered, I will begin instructing you. Murtagh, you have yet to unlock your magic, but do not be dissuaded- I am going to put the both of you through the same exercises. It will come to you in time. These lessons are something I can give you on the road in addition to our swordplay during the evenings. So rest up. You're in for some very long days."

With that, Brom lay his head back on Snowfire and said nothing more.

Eragon and Murtagh glanced at each other and shrugged. They were both tired from the events of the day and just wanted to sleep more. The brothers leaned against their respective dragons and closed their eyes.

Saphira nuzzled her Rider and crooned. _Goodnight, little one._

* * *

"Take these."

Both Eragon and Murtagh blinked in confusion as Brom gave them each a small stone. They looked the rocks over for anything remarkable, but the only thing they could find was how very _unremarkable_ they were.

"This is your training," Brom held his own stone up in his palm. He gave the boys a stern look. "Your goal is to make the stone levitate over your hand for as long as possible. To make this happen, you must recite these words from the Ancient Language: Stenr reisa."

They repeated his words to which the old man nodded. "Good. Now make the stones float."

Eragon frowned in concentration. He was searching his mind for some semblance of the power he had used in the town to destroy the Urgal. Unfortunately, it was very difficult to locate and required lots of digging about. Finally, he could feel some hint of the magic and excitedly tried to use it, but it was stubborn, as though it resisted him. He growled and forcibly dragged it out of his mind.

Power rushed over him and Eragon gasped. "Stenr reisa."

The stone in his palm wobbled, then slowly rose up and started to float. It was only in the air for a few moments before it fell back down to his hand.

Brom smiled approvingly. "Well done. Not bad for a first try. Keep it up."

"How did you do that?" Murtagh demanded. "I can't get mine to do anything!"

Eragon tapped his head. "You have to search your mind for it. It's got this presence to it, but I had to really push to make it do anything."

His brother frowned at the stone again as he attempted to do what Eragon had said. After a few minutes, in which time Eragon managed to lift the stone up several more times with increasing ease, Murtagh began to scowl and glare menacingly at his rock.

It refused to budge. He lost patience and snapped.

"Jierda!"

Eragon yelped as a cracking sound came from Murtagh and the stone his brother held quite simply exploded into shattered fragments. Murtagh looked flabbergasted and Brom roared with laughter at the utter shock present on the elder brother's face.

That had been entirely unexpected.

"Not exactly what I instructed, but you found your magic," Brom chuckled. "Don't use that spell too much, though. Jierda means "break" as you have just discovered. It uses quite a bit of energy, like Brisingr, depending on what you use it for. Destroying a pebble shouldn't tire you out too terribly, but using it to break other things, for example, bone or steel, takes considerably more power."

Murtagh grinned. "That might be rather useful in the future when we face the Ra'zac."

"Concentrate on your training for now," the old man grunted, chucking another rock to his young charge. "Lift the stone correctly this time."

Now much more confident, Murtagh attempted and succeeded in lifting the rock. Eragon grinned at him and the two started challenging each other to see who could lift the stone fastest. Brom allowed it, gauging their progressed with a trained eye.

 _To think they've managed to access their magic this quickly…I misjudged their growth rate. Competition will without doubt increase the speed with which they gain power, but I'd best keep the advanced spells out of their reach for now. Competing with a spell like Jierda could end up very nastily indeed._

* * *

"Alright, that's enough," Brom stopped them as they stopped to camp for the night. Both Eragon and Murtagh had grown tired of their competition as they found the limits of their energy, though Brom had insisted they continue practicing regardless. Needless to say, they both very much disliked the stones now.

They hurled the stones far away with growls of dislike before facing a smirking Brom. The old man made them dinner and discussed their travel route for a bit, then when they finished eating, he tossed them each the usual wooden swords.

"Alright boys, come along now," Brom challenged.

Eragon and Murtagh didn't hesitate to rush him and start slashing, but their exhaustion from magic training was showing. Brom managed to disarm Eragon in less than a minute and left a red welt on Murtagh's neck with the next blow.

"Again," Brom ordered. Scowling, the brothers got their wooden swords and charged him again.

Without doubt, they'd improved. Even tired, Eragon and Murtagh both managed to land a few hits on Brom, though he still beat them up quite thoroughly.

The old man finally decided to call it a night when Eragon collapsed after their final round. Murtagh leaned against a tree and groaned.

Saphira and Thorn, who had been watching the events in amusement, went to their Riders and curled around them. Eragon passed out quickly, but Murtagh stayed awake a while longer.

Brom arched an eyebrow at the elder brother. "Something on your mind, Murtagh?"

Murtagh shrugged and turned his gaze upon the sleeping form of Eragon. "It's just…he's my little brother. I've always watched over him and protected him. I worry about what this fighting and killing might do to him. He just turned sixteen. He's not even a man yet…"

"You're barely one yourself," Brom inclined his head and closed his eyes. "I understand what you're saying though, but Eragon isn't your average child anymore. Don't forget, he has Saphira, as well as you to take care of him."

 _Don't forget me,_ Thorn added with a snort.

Murtagh smiled and scratched the dragon's chin fondly. Thorn hummed gratefully and the elder brother sighed. "I don't want him to grow up too fast."

"But he must. If he does not, he won't survive," the old man warned. "Believe me, I wouldn't have taken you two on this journey if he were any younger. I would have done everything in my power to hide you both away. Now though, there's simply no other option. Eragon will simply have to get stronger. He can do it."

He nodded and then frowned. Murtagh hadn't spoken to Brom like this since he was just a boy, but now that he had the opportunity again…

"Brom?"

"Yes?"

"You've been in Carvahall since Eragon was born, haven't you?"

"…I have."

"Did you ever…did you ever meet our mother?"

Brom turned his gaze away and was silent for a time. "I…knew her. It was only for a short time, but I was present in Carvahall when Selena arrived there. In fact, I even helped carry you to Garrow's house."

Murtagh was surprised. "He never mentioned that."

"It wasn't important," Brom murmured. "I simply helped out a woman who was very tired. Any respectable man would have done the same. I'm still amazed she traveled as far as she did in her condition. Selena was heavily pregnant when she arrived in Carvahall."

"Why would she risk such a journey? And why did she leave us?"

"I do not know, Murtagh," the old man sighed, suddenly looking even older than normal. "But that is not something you should ponder right now. Right now, we must focus on our task at hand. Get some sleep. We've another long day of traveling tomorrow."

Murtagh reluctantly agreed, but he asked one more thing. "What was she like?"

Brom closed his eyes. "Brave, selfless, and so very beautiful. And she loved you and Eragon more than anything else in this world. Of that, I have no doubt."

His words satiated Murtagh's curiosity. He leaned against Thorn and settled down for the night.

* * *

They traveled for another two weeks before the group eventually drew close to the small town of Daret.

During that time, Eragon and Murtagh spent their days learning the Ancient Language with Brom's instruction. They managed to make the stones float effortlessly soon enough and began to do other exercises, like crushing the stones with magic or hurling them at objects to deal damage. In the evenings, they sparred with Brom and the stamina the two brothers possessed grew with each contest. When they went to bed at night, the boys weren't the only ones with some real bruises.

Saphira and Thorn continued to grow as they traveled until they were each the size of the horses and much taller. Brom worried that their glittering scales of sapphire and crimson would attract attention, but they refused to tarnish the shining armor they so prided themselves on. Constantly flying and hunting kept them fit and more lethal than ever.

The Ra'zac were no easier to track. They always stayed several days ahead of the group, much to Eragon and Murtagh's growing frustration. Brom insisted it was a good thing though, because the longer the Ra'zac eluded them, the more chance they would have to become strong enough to kill them. As they were, there was no chance the brothers could slay the wicked creatures.

When they eventually reached Daret, their arrival was similar to that of Yazuac.

No one was at the entrance, leaving them wary. If there was another Urgal ambush waiting for them, none of the group was eager to find out. Brom shifted Snowfire forward a bit as they moved into the town, but then froze.

"We're leaving," he uttered, before a mass of archers appeared on the rooftops. Each one was aiming for them.

A man with a broadsword came up from behind them. "None of you move. You're surrounded by sixty archers. What is your business in coming here?"

Eragon froze at the sight of so many arrows pointing at them. He felt Saphira's alarm and shouted to her mentally. _Stay away, Saphira! If they fire, they'll shoot you out of the sky!_

Brom faced the man and spoke calmly. "Just to buy supplies and hear the news. Nothing more."

The man chewed his lip for a moment and grunted. "Would you mind if I sent someone to get the supplies for you? We've had too much trouble with Urgals and bandits for me to trust you on just your word alone. If not, I must ask you to leave."

"That will suffice," Brom replied agreeably. He made a short list and passed it to the man along with some crowns to pay for the supplies. The man gave the list to one of his archers, who ran into town hurriedly.

"I'm Trevor. I'd shake your hand, but I think not. Where are you from?"

"The north," Brom told him. "I'm traveling with my nephews here to meet with their aunt in Dras Leona. I presume its the Urgals that have driven you to these extremes?"

"Aye," Trevor answered. "Have you brought any word from our neighboring towns? It's rare we hear anything from them, but even so, for them to be silent this long is unusual."

Brom's eyes darkened. "I am sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news, but we passed through Yazuac a fortnight ago and found it to be pillaged by Urgals. The villagers were all slain. We would have tried to give them a decent burial, but two Urgals attacked us."

Trevor looked devastated. "I did not think…we've heard word of a troop of Urgals wandering about, but to think they could've…"

"You should consider abandoning this place," Brom urged. "It is simply too dangerous to live here any longer. The fiends that wander these hills no doubt will continue to haunt you."

"We cannot leave. This place is our home."

The archer returned then with their supplies. Brom gave him his thanks and then faced Trevor once more. "We will be leaving then, as promised."

Trevor nodded. "Be safe in your journeys."

"Aye, and you as well."

With that, they left Daret behind.

* * *

"Put these on," Brom tossed each brother a pair of dark gloves. "They'll cover the gedwey ignasia and hide the fact that it glows every time you use magic. Now, did either of you use your powers back there?"

Eragon tilted his head. "No, there was no reason to do so."

"Wrong," the old man sighed. "You could have used your ability to touch the minds of others to read Trevor's intentions. If he was bent on killing us, you would have been completely unprepared for an ambush."

"How do we do that?"

"With lots of practice. But know this- it is very unethical and rude to invade another's mind without their consent. The only times it is permitted is when circumstances deem it necessary. For example, when a company of sixty archers is bearing down on you."

Murtagh nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I'd recommend starting with a cat," Brom suggested. "They've got some fascinating personalities. Birds bore me- they think of nothing but singing all day."

"I'm sure Thorn would be rather fond of them, then," Eragon chuckled and ducked as Murtagh made a playful swipe at his younger brother.

When they reached the dragons, however, both of them seemed thoroughly displeased. Saphira was the more aggressive however, and snapped at the horses. They startled back before she cast a menacing glare at Eragon.

He frowned. _What's your problem?_

 _You,_ she growled. _You are my problem._

Eragon dismounted Cadoc only to have Saphira leap at him and pin the boy down with her talons. He yelled in shock. "Saphira! What are you doing!?"

Murtagh was about to tell Thorn to make Saphira get off of Eragon, but Brom held his hand out to stop him. Whatever the blue dragon was angry about, she wouldn't bring her Rider to harm.

She swung her head over him until her eyes glared into his like chips of ice. Her furious gaze made him squirm in immense discomfort.

 _YOU! Every time I let you leave my sight, you get into trouble! You stick your nose into EVERYTHING, like a hatchling that's just left its shell! What will happen when you find something that bites back? I cannot keep you safe when I am miles away. I have stayed hidden for the sake of stealth, but no more! Not when you may die because I am unable to come and save you quickly enough._

 _Saphira, I understand why you're upset,_ Eragon sighed. _But I've been around much longer than you. You're the one who needs protection because you don't know what's out here._

 _And you DO?_ Saphira challenged him, snapping her teeth close to his face. _Brom is leading here, and you are just as inexperienced in this place as I am! Now back to the main subject! I am not going to let you go riding that pathetic deer-creature you call a horse another day. Tomorrow, you are going to ride me, whether you like it or not. Resist, and I will carry you in my claws. Aren't you supposed to be a Dragon Rider? Don't you care for me?_

Eragon felt guilty and couldn't meet her gaze. Truthfully, he was scared to ride her again because the last time had resulted in his legs being injured. Now, however, there was no excuse- they had a saddle for both Saphira and Thorn, and both dragons were easily strong enough to carry their Riders.

Brom arched an eyebrow. "Well?"

"She wants me to ride her tomorrow," Eragon replied with a groan.

"Don't complain. Do you have any idea how many people would plead and beg simply to meet a dragon?" the old man scoffed. "It's a good idea, though. You need to learn how to ride her anyways. We'll add this into the routine; every other day, you and Murtagh will switch off riding Saphira and Thorn. That'll give me a chance to work one-on-one with each of you on your magic. We'll make more progress this way."

"But what if you two are attacked?" Eragon protested. "I won't be able to get there and help in time-"

Saphira pressed her paw harder on his chest to silence him. _That's exactly my point, little one._

Murtagh smirked. "I'm all for the idea. I've been dying to ride Thorn."

 _Yet you appear to be in perfect health,_ his dragon commented jokingly. _I don't even detect a hint of illness from you, much less the stench of death, Murtagh._

"You know what I mean," Murtagh laughed. His dragon hummed with amusement.

"Eragon, you should ride with her," Brom encouraged. "With you flying ahead, you can spot any traps or ambushes much more quickly than we can. Buck up and do it."

He sighed and nodded before facing Saphira again. _Alright, I'll do it._

 _Promise me._

 _Is that really necessary?_

 _It is,_ Saphira murmured more softly and Eragon detected a hint of longing in her voice. _I want to fly with you, Eragon! You have no idea how much!_

In fact he could tell exactly how much she wanted to fly with him, and he didn't have the heart to turn her down. Eragon smiled and raised his hand to caress Saphira's snout. "Alright, I promise. We'll fly together tomorrow."

 _Thank you, little one._

 _Why do you call me that?_

 _Because you are little,_ Saphira hummed with amusement. _And you are my one Rider. Hence, little one._

Her simple explanation complete, Saphira delivered a rather large lick to Eragon's face, who protested indignantly while Brom, Murtagh, and Thorn laughed at the sight.


	7. Freedom and Captivity

_Chapter 7: Freedom and Captivity_

The next morning, Eragon eyed the sky that he would soon be flying in. There were a few clouds, but nothing troubling. A gentle breeze blew over the plains and Saphira made a happy sound beside him.

She turned her gaze to him in anticipation. _Are you ready?_

 _Not really,_ Eragon admitted, steeling himself. _But let's do it!_

Brom was just finishing strapping the saddle to Saphira's body while Murtagh and Thorn watched. One thing Eragon always noticed about the two dragons was that Thorn was calmer than Saphira was, at least in regards to his usual personality. Brom had told them once that the females were much more aggressive than the males were, which explained some things- like how Saphira was always the first to react in anger whenever insulted or displeased. Thorn had a slightly more patient streak to him, but that didn't make him any less dangerous.

They were both dragons, after all.

Once Saphira's saddle was prepared, Brom helped Eragon up onto his dragon and showed him how to tighten the bands around his legs, which would prevent the boy from falling off.

"Remember, grip with your knees," the old man instructed. "Nothing will go wrong as long as you don't panic. Try to stay flat on her back. Stay in her thoughts at all times, Eragon. She will help you in guiding her movements."

"Alright," Eragon replied. He was nervous, but there was no escaping this, so he faced it head-on.

Murtagh grinned. "Don't drop your lunch all over us down here, little brother. I shudder to imagine what ghastly substances we would be met with."

"Those ghastly substances you speak of consist almost entirely of my cooking," Brom grunted. "Don't make me give you smaller rations tonight, boy. Enough talk. Saphira, whenever you two are ready."

He and Murtagh backed off closer to Thorn, who was sitting beside the horses. They watched and waited while Saphira crouched in preparation to take off.

 _Hold tight, but relax yourself,_ Saphira told him. _I want you to enjoy this as much as I do._

With that, her legs surged upwards and her wings came down hard. Eragon gasped as air blasted past him, and in three powerful strokes, Saphira was airborne. They were in the sky and climbing higher.

He hardly recognized the motions. The first time Eragon and Murtagh had ridden their dragons, they'd been a whole third smaller than they were now. Saphira was stronger at this point and easily capable of holding his weight upon her back. She flew with grace and ease, dancing with the wind and sky.

Eragon was actually enjoying himself up until Saphira tilted and did a complete roll. His stomach lurched uncomfortably with vertigo. _Saphira! Don't do that! I thought I was going to fall off!_

 _You must get used to it,_ Saphira replied. _If we are attacked in the air, that's one of the simplest maneuvers I'll do. It'll keep you from being turned into a pincushion by arrows._

 _Just warn me next time,_ he grunted. Her tail flicked in response.

Saphira leaned forward slightly until they had entered a shallow dive. As they got closer to the ground, Eragon heard a roar and suddenly a crimson blur shot straight up in front of them. He shouted in alarm, but stopped when he realized it was only Thorn.

The red dragon was spinning and hurtling through the air, joyously enjoying himself. He flew a little closer to them and offered Eragon a teasing look and his growling laugh, pleased to have startled the young Rider. Eragon rolled his eyes, but smirked at the dragon's antics.

Saphira was humming with amusement as Thorn flew directly above her, so close that Eragon was able to reach up and touch the his armored stomach. After a moment, Thorn banked sharply and went back to simply playing in the air. Eragon was amazed by his aerial acrobatics, how flexible and graceful the red dragon was despite being bulkier than Saphira. He reminded Eragon of a twisting red ribbon.

 _He's not bad,_ Saphira admitted. _But he has a long way to go before he can best_ me _._

Eragon believed her.

She nudged his mind gently. _Let me show you something special._

 _What is it?_

 _Just relax and give yourself to me._

He felt her tug at his consciousness and did as she asked after just a moment of hesitation. Suddenly, Eragon's world was filled with blue, the exotic colors subduing the majority of the prominent greens and reds from his own vision.

Exhilaration filled Eragon from Saphira's own heart. She sent him all the joy she held for this freedom, to fly wherever she pleased as a queen of the skies, an aerial predator like which there was no other. Well, no other besides Thorn, that is. He felt the strength of her wings, her tail, and the force with which her body resisted the wind.

Then Thorn was beside them and the two dragons gave each other an unspoken challenge through their eyes. They began to climb high, flying faster and faster until even the clouds looked small beneath them.

At their peak, the dragons simply stopped flapping their wings and dove.

Blasts of air rocketed past them as Eragon and the dragons fell, streaming as if the wind had become a flash flood. Saphira and Thorn tucked in their wings and focused solely on the ground rushing up to them. Anticipation built up in the dragons as they awaited the moment to turn back to the sky. Further and further they fell, diving through the clouds like a pair of glittering peregrines.

As one, they suddenly pulled up sharply, but carefully to avoid putting too much pressure on their spines. Thorn let out a joyous bellow and Saphira answered him with a roar.

Saphira let Eragon's mind go and he found himself gasping for breath while his heart hammered, blood roaring in his ears. It took him a few minutes to recover, but he started to laugh wildly.

 _That was incredible!_

 _It is indeed,_ she answered happily.

 _We must fly together more often,_ he exclaimed. _I'm sorry I was so reluctant before. The first time we flew made me nervous. Now…I don't think I could ever get tired of such a feeling._

 _Good. Because I love flying with you, little one,_ Saphira crooned to him affectionately.

Eragon patted her neck in agreement. _I love it too, Saphira._

Thorn came up beside them and fixed his gaze on the pair. _Murtagh has asked us to meet him and old-white-one on the trail. They discovered something, it seems._

Saphira's eyes narrowed. _Then let's find out what, so I may bring my Rider back to the sky as soon as possible._

Eragon found her reluctance to land again so soon after taking off amusing, but he knew this could be important. Brom wouldn't just order them to come down for anything.

* * *

When they landed, Brom was waiting patiently, though Murtagh was scowling. Eragon frowned at the sight as he dismounted Saphira. "What's wrong?"

"The Ra'zac's trail is gone," Murtagh growled.

"What?!" Eragon exclaimed. "How could they just vanish?"

Brom shrugged. "Take a look. Recognize anything?"

He stared at the ground and froze when he caught sight of a giant track that was eerily similar to a dragon's. He'd seen them only once before when his farm was destroyed.

"The Ra'zac's mounts…" he breathed.

"The Lethrblaka," Brom agreed with a shake of his head. "I've wondered for a time how they keep getting from place to place so quickly, but it would seem as though the Lethrblaka carry them around the Empire when they aren't traveling on foot. It's odd how they chose to fly off now when they could have done so before. Something urgent must have occurred."

Eragon threw his hands up in frustration. "Now what? If they've been flying for days, then there's no way that Saphira or Thorn can track them down. Even if we could, we'd leave you far behind us."

Murtagh was fuming. "Now they've got an even bigger lead. Who knows where they are now. If the Lethrblaka have been flying for days, they could be anywhere."

"There's no easy solution to this problem," Brom sighed. "But we won't just give up so easily. Let's have lunch and think on it. Perhaps we'll find an answer."

They ate in silence, pondering hard on their predicament, but nothing came to mind, not even to Brom. As experienced as the old man was with these creatures, he had no idea what could be done.

"If we were desperate, then Saphira or Thorn could show themselves at a town," he said. "That would without doubt draw the Ra'zac to us like bees to honey, but there's a much greater risk. They'd bring soldiers, and if he's interested enough, the king himself might decide to pay us a visit. If that happens, we will have no hope of escape."

Eragon growled. "So what do we do then? Give up?"

"I didn't say that," Brom retorted. "But this is your mission. You'll have to decide what you want to do next. The both of you."

Murtagh and Eragon exchanged glances, but neither had an immediate solution. Eragon scowled and began to pace around the clearing. Brom took a seat by the nearest tree and watched as the two brothers thought furiously for a solution.

Surprisingly, it was Thorn that came upon one.

 _I think I've found something of the Ra'zac's,_ he told Murtagh.

Murtagh's gaze whipped to his dragon sharply. _What is it?_

 _A flask of some sort,_ Thorn replied, poking his head up from behind a large shrub. _It reeks of something foul. I can think of no one else besides the Ra'zac who would carry such a thing._

His Rider walked over and found Thorn standing over the flask. Murtagh gave it a look over and cautiously picked it up. Some odd, clear liquid was inside of it, but he did not dare drink it.

If it belonged to the Ra'zac, it might be able to kill him instantaneously for all he knew.

Instead, he brought it back to the others. "Old man, what do you think of this?"

Brom cast him a glare. "Remind me to beat you especially badly this evening during our sword practice for that nickname. Give it here."

He took the flask and Eragon immediately walked over to check out their discovery. "What's that?"

"Don't even think about drinking it," Brom growled, quickly making sure it was out of the boy's reach. "If I'm right…"

He found a small leaf and poured a single drop of the liquid onto it. A moment later, the leaf started to shrivel and dissolve, as if it were being burned away.

Murtagh shivered. There was an acrid scent in the air, as though flesh were being burnt. "You smell that?"

"Seithr Oil," Brom grunted. "It's used for torture. Quite the nasty substance, too. It'll only burn away materials that are living or were once living. Normally, it can be used for keeping pearls strong and lustrous, but this kind here has had an incantation placed upon it along with a blood sacrifice. There's another good lesson for you two- just because something looks harmless doesn't mean it is. Why, if one of you had been foolish enough to drink it, only a puddle would have been left of you."

"…that's the stuff they used to torture and kill Garrow, isn't it?" Eragon breathed out furiously.

"Most likely," replied the old man with a grim expression. "But this is a troubling find. This oil is incredibly expensive. I seriously doubt the King would be pleased that the Ra'zac lost it. They must have been in an unusual hurry."

Murtagh carefully screwed the lid back onto the flask and gave it an appraising look. "You said this stuff is quite expensive?"

"Yes."

"How many people are we talking about that can afford it?" Murtagh asked. "And how many can buy it in large shipments?"

Brom arched his brow. "Very few. We're talking perhaps two dozen people in all of the Empire, aside from the King of course. In massive quantities…that's limited to only the lords of each city."

"And the coast must keep records of these shipments, right? I was under the impression that anything priced above a certain amount of money had to be kept in official record."

Eragon's eyes flickered in realization. He was catching on. "If that's true, then if we can figure out where the oil was shipped to, it'll lead us right to the Ra'zac's hideout!"

"Genius!" Brom exclaimed with a fierce grin. "This could have saved me countless headaches over the years. The coast has several shipping towns and cities that all serve as transport points for the Empire's goods. Teirm would be the best place to start, since it's a massive center of trade. If I recall, an old friend of mine, Jeod, has been living there for quite some time. He's a merchant as well, so he could grant us access to the records we seek."

"Thorn, you're a lifesaver!" Murtagh cast his dragon a huge smile. "If you hadn't found that flask, we would be running about Alagaesia like chickens with our heads cut off."

Thorn stood up tall and basked in the glow of pride. He looked incredibly smug. _I_ am _rather amazing, aren't I?_

 _And as vain as a young buck in his first rut,_ Saphira commented dryly.

Eragon laughed at that, but Thorn was unaffected by the blue dragon's sarcasm. He was very proud of himself for the lucky find.

"It'll take us about a week to get to Teirm," Brom explained. "For now, Murtagh and I will continue on foot. Eragon, get back on Saphira and fly with her until I call you down."

"Got it!"

The boy leaped back onto his dragon without a hint of the hesitation he'd displayed earlier, strapped himself in, and let out a wild cry of delight as Saphira surged into the air again.

Brom smirked after him, watching as Saphira climbed high and Thorn followed. "I had a feeling he'd rather enjoy flying."

"The problem now is going to make sure they don't fly off somewhere dangerous," Murtagh chuckled.

"We're in the Empire. Everywhere is dangerous, Murtagh."

* * *

That evening, Brom had a surprise for the boys. Seeing as they broke the stick-swords the trio had been using for sparring practice, the old man decided that Eragon and Murtagh were ready to use real blades.

He handed Zar'roc to Murtagh and Undbitr to Eragon, the latter of which protested. "We'll cut each other's limbs off."

"I wouldn't let you practice with a sword if I thought that was a concern," Brom snorted. "You've gone and forgotten about magic again. Watch this carefully."

Holding out his own blade, a normal silver-steel weapon, Brom ran his fingers along the blade and grunted. "Xjeuloth du knifr!"

Red sparks flickered between the digits and enveloped the sword for a moment before fading away. Brom held the sword out and attempted to slice his hand on the edge, but to the boys' surprise, he came out of it unscathed.

Murtagh arched an eyebrow in curiosity. "What did you do to it?"

"Lay your fingers on the edge," Brom instructed. They did as he said and were surprised to find an invisible, slippery barrier lining the weapon. "These weapons can't cut us, but they can break bones if you swing hard enough. I don't believe any of us would enjoy that, so this training depends on you perfecting your form. Don't flail about like you usually do. If we hit someone on the neck, it's not unlikely that they'll die."

He spent the next few minutes teaching the boys to guard their own swords, which they did with a little difficulty. But both Eragon and Murtagh were gradually realizing that tasks with magic were getting easier and easier every time they used it.

Once the blades were all guarded, Brom walked a few paces away from them and brandished his sword with practiced ease. His free hand came up and provoked a challenge as usual.

"Well, come on then, boys. I'm getting old over here."

They rushed him as they often did from both sides. Brom managed to block their pincer attack with ease this time, despite having taken numerous hits from the same technique beforehand with the practice sticks. Murtagh earned a sharp strike to his ribs for the attack and Eragon got a jab to his knee.

Brom shoved them back effortlessly and twirled the blade in his hand. "Surprised? You shouldn't be; you've been practicing with twigs before this. Your muscles are by no means accustomed to such weight. You will be slower, less accurate, and much easier targets for now. If you want to beat me, then get stronger."

His words ringing in their ears, Brom lunged at the two brothers with exactly the same deadly speed he used in their earlier practice fights. Murtagh managed to parry the first strike and Eragon took advantage of the distraction to attack Brom in return, but Undbitr was heavy in his hands and he only scored a glancing blow.

Brom delivered a strong kick to Eragon and sent him sprawling. He slashed at Murtagh again, then spun to flick his own sword at the elder brother's ankle and tripped him up.

"Get up! You expect to kill the Ra'zac like this?" Brom demanded.

Without complaint, Eragon got right back up and lunged at him, roaring loudly. Murtagh charged in as well, and the pair engaged Brom with all the ferocity they could manage.

At the end of it all, the swords had not a single dent to show for the immense pounding they had taken. However, Eragon and Murtagh, and to a lesser extent Brom, came out of the sparring match with large red welts over their bodies. The weight of the swords also left the brothers with an incredible burning in their arms.

Brom, however, seemed completely unaffected. Eragon suspiciously wondered if just _looked_ old.

Saphira found his suspicion rather amusing.

* * *

The next day, Murtagh took to the skies with Thorn while Eragon remained on the horses with Brom. As the old man had stated, as one of the Riders flew with their dragon, the other would stay with him and learn magic. On occasion, Brom would relay orders to practice flight combat with Saphira and Thorn. It wasn't like he expected them to be fighting other dragons anytime soon, but it got Eragon and Murtagh accustomed to dangerous aerial maneuvers. In the evenings they sparred with swords as usual, and slowly but surely, the speed with which they fought regained the tempo of their earlier matches with the sticks.

Brom wouldn't say it, but he was proud of them and secretly relieved that there was a source of competition for the brothers- each other. They got noticeably better every single day, both in swordplay and magic. He hadn't seen anyone excel this quickly in quite a while. That wasn't to say they were perfect. Even when they fought him two on one, Brom defeated them more often than not.

It was hard to say which of them was better in swordplay, for both were natural swordsmen- rarely skilled and unimaginably deadly once fully trained. Almost in annoyance, he realized they would both likely surpass him in the blade before too long. This pair of mere boys. Eragon was barely sixteen.

He didn't get much time to ponder this. The week of travel had passed, and Tierm was now in their sights.

* * *

In an office filled with malevolence, Durza restlessly awaited his company. The Shade was quite displeased with the latest news, but even more so he was frustrated. The last few months had been thoroughly unpleasant, even by his standards. The King had been furious that he lost the eggs, and was only marginally forgiving when Durza reported the elf's capture.

A rap on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. "Enter."

The thick wood was pushed inwards as the door swung open and two hooded figures- the Ra'zac- entered his office. Behind them was a tall man whom Durza was more familiar with than he cared to be.

"What news?"

"The old one hasss taken them away," the shorter Ra'zac hissed.

Durza's eye twitched. "Where to?"

"We know not," replied the elder.

The Shade scowled and glared at the man, who stared back indifferently. "This is your fault."

"I'm not the one who lost the eggs," was the annoyed reply.

"You lied," Durza snarled. "You said that you killed that troublesome man years ago. Instead, he's alive and has _two_ Dragon Riders, **_two_** on the run and probably heading straight for the Varden!"

The man's bicolored eyes flickered darkly. "A mistake I intend to correct personally. There won't be so much as a stain left by the time I'm through with him. I'll hunt him and the two new Riders down myself."

"No. The King has already informed me of what he wants you to do," Durza waved a hand at him dismissively. "You are reporting back to him in Uru'baen and are taking the last egg to Feinster for the yearly ceremony. If you want to repent for your miserable failure, find the last Rider and bring him back to Galbatorix without fail."

With a scowl, the man snapped at the Shade. "Mind your tongue. You are in just as much trouble with him as I am."

Durza sneered and leaned forward over his desk, staring the man right in the eye. "But I brought the elf back here, didn't I?"

"She's useless if you never get anything out of her," he replied gruffly. "Let me have a turn with her. I assure you I can…persuade her to give us what we want."

"You have your orders; interrogating her is my duty," Durza shook his head, then glanced at the Ra'zac. "As for you two, the King has proclaimed that you are to return to Dras Leona. Recover your strength, eat if you wish, and then await his next orders. It's likely that you'll be pursuing the Riders again before long."

The Ra'zac dipped their heads. "Very well. We ssshall do this."

"Good. Off you go, then," the Shade ordered. "You'll be rewarded with fresh meat upon your arrival at the dark gates."

That seemed to please them, but it was difficult to say considering that their faces were still cloaked. Without another word, the Ra'zac quietly slipped out of Durza's office, leaving the Shade with the tall man.

Durza arched an eyebrow. "I thought I gave you your orders."

"No one but the King orders me around, _Shade_ ," he retorted. "And know this- just because you're on his good side for now doesn't mean you'll be there for long. If you fail to retrieve information from the elf, you know he'll come straight to me to finish the job."

"I am not going to fail, _forsworn_ ," spat Durza. "Now leave; I'm weary of your presence and that insufferable beast of yours. Get that nameless monstrosity out of my territory."

The man scowled and whipped away, slamming the door behind him. A few minutes later, Durza heard a ghastly roar that he was all-too familiar with before the sound of heavy wingbeats faded into silence.

He let out a slight hiss. The encounter had left him in an even fouler state than before, but Durza knew exactly what to do with it. There was just five more minutes left before his next interrogation of the elf. His lips curled into a cruel, malicious grin.

There were plenty of agonizing torture methods he had yet to try on her. That could make him feel better.

An hour later, her screams and shrieks put him in a more pleasant state of mind.


	8. The Sea and Solembum

_Chapter 8: The Sea and Solembum_

Brom pointed to the gates of Tierm. "This is our first obstacle. Follow my lead and don't act suspiciously."

Eragon and Murtagh simply nodded from behind him on their horses, but cast conspiratorial grins at each other, mischief dancing in their eyes. Brom had instructed the dragons to remain several miles away from the city where they wouldn't be spotted while the three of them searched for the records they would need. Saphira and Thorn were not happy about it, but relented.

It was necessary.

 _If I find out you've gone and done something stupid again, I am going to kidnap you and never let you go,_ Saphira growled into Eragon's mind.

He couldn't help but crack a smile at her overprotective nature. _We'll be fine. Brom knows this place and we aren't simple travelers anymore. Don't worry about me._

 _I worry about you all the time. Trouble follows you like a dog follows its master._

 _Are you suggesting I am a master of trouble?_

 _You are a master of getting INTO trouble,_ she corrected. _But your skills of causing troublesome situations are getting horrendously better as the weeks go by._

 _I love you._

 _Then stay out of trouble so I may crush you in my embrace when next I see you, little one._

They reached the gates and were immediately stopped by a rather lazy looking guard. "Halt! What's yer name?"

Brom gave the impression of an absolute idiot, a blatantly cheery smile on his face. "I'm called Neal."

"An' the other two?" demanded the guard.

"Well, I wus about to say that…" Brom wheezed. "This'd be mah nephews Evan and Marvin. Mah sister's boys, y'know?"

The guard rolled his eyes impatiently. "Yeah yeah, what's yer business here?"

"Just visitin an old friend," Eragon piped up. "This here old fart's got a habit of gettin' lost. We're just here t' make sure he don't get lost again."

Murtagh leaned forward with a not-so-subtle wink to the guard. "He got too much sun when he wuz younger, y'know? Brain fever and the like, y'know?"

With a near-smirk at Brom's blissfully unaware face, the guard nodded. "Well, just make sure he don't get up to any trouble, ya hear?"

"He won't get into any, we promise," Eragon assured him.

The guard grunted and jerked his head towards the city. "Right, in ya go then."

"Thank'ee much," Murtagh replied.

Once they were out of earshot, Brom sat up straighter and looked from one brother to another with an arched eyebrow. No matter how hard they tried, they could not hide the little smirks that were forcibly appearing on their faces.

Brom finally broke the silence with a mild growl. "Brain fever, eh?"

Murtagh nodded his head sagely. "It's quite an unfortunate sickness."

"I see…and old fart?"

"Well, that's a title reserved for only the most respectable of elders," Eragon replied simply.

Brom scowled. "You sneaky little devils, you had that planned out before we even got to the gate, didn't you?"

He'd figured them out and Eragon burst out laughing. Murtagh also broke his act and roared with merriment. "Like we could let you have all the fun!"

The old man rolled his eyes and grunted. "Cheeky little brats…"

However, their light atmosphere didn't last long, for Teirm looked ready to engage in warfare. Very few buildings had roofs which did not possess archer posts, or at least, had them built in case archers were needed there. The construction of the houses intrigued the brothers because the buildings gradually got taller towards the center of the city.

Murtagh pointed this out to Brom and the old man informed them. "It's because of Teirm's usual pirate troubles, not to mention the Urgals. The city was designed so that in case of an attack, they would always have high ground to fall back on. He who owns the high ground in combat is often the winner. There's a constant threat of archers for anyone bold enough to attack the city, but it also makes it nearly impossible for an archer to accidentally hit one of his design has been quite successful."

Eragon whistled. "They take pirate raids pretty seriously."

"As they should; Teirm was almost burned to the ground by a pirate raid," Brom replied. "It was after that massive attack that they began to design the city like this."

They walked through the city in search of a place to collect information, and it didn't take long before the three travelers found themselves at a bar.

"The Green Chestnut, eh?" Brom arched his brow at the battered sign and commented dryly. "Lovely."

The bar's atmosphere was by no means welcoming and much less safe. Eragon warily glanced around, noting a few characters he didn't particularly wish to tangle with at first glance- starting with the rather large man sitting alone at a table, studying a pair of stumps on his hand where fingers had once been. The bartender reminded him of Sloan, and that was never a good first impression.

Murtagh lightly nudged his arm and cast a reassuring look at his younger brother. Eragon nodded back and inwardly relaxed. Brothers looked out for each other, no matter where they ended up.

Brom approached the bartender and ordered a drink first, then asked quietly. "Do you know where a man named Jeod lives?"

The bartender gave him his drink and huffed. "I don't keep up with every lowlife around here unless it's worth my time and trouble."

A coin slid onto the bar, courtesy of Brom as the old man nodded to the bartender. "I'm sure I can make it worth your trouble."

With an appraising look that quickly turned into a greedy one that Eragon immediately disliked, the bartender shrugged. "Maybe, but my memory takes some prodding. It ain't what it used to be, y'know?"

Brom continued to smile, but it grew flat and sour as several more coins were placed on the bar before the man seemed satisfied and reached for them. "Alright, I'll tell-"

"Gareth, stop making trouble," Eragon jumped as the man missing two fingers stood up from his seat and fixed the bartender with a stern glare. "Anyone can tell them where Jeod lives. Charging them for his address is practically theft."

Without hesitating, Brom swiftly took his coins back, though he left two for the drink he had bought. Gareth scowled at the man who had interrupted his bribe, but made no more issue of it.

The trio joined the man at his table, where Brom dipped his head politely. "You just saved me quite a bit of coin."

"Yeah, well I can't exactly blame Gareth," the man sighed. "Business for him hasn't been going very well. Rather, it hasn't been going well throughout the city. We're falling on lean times and it's not even because of pirates or Urgals. Anyway, my name's Martin. Jeod lives in the west side of town by the ocean, right next door to Angela the herbalist."

"I'm Neal," Brom answered. "These are my nephews Evan and Marvin."

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "The Urgals aren't around here?"

"Not anymore," Martin replied, taking a quick drink of his ale. "The brutes have all migrated southeast and the pirates have been lying low for a bit. No, they aren't the ones causing trouble, but no one knows exactly who is."

Brom frowned. "Surely there've been witnesses?"

"Not a one. Several of our trading ships have been going missing lately, and only the ships of certain merchants. Jeod is one of those people, and so a lot of our business is going out. Sometimes we've had to send caravans out instead to trade, but it costs far more and it's more dangerous than the average sea trip."

"Are you a sailor?" Eragon asked curiously.

Martin regarded the boy with a slight grin. "Not on my life. The captains hire me to defend their ships against pirate attacks. It's dangerous work, even if the thieves haven't been particularly active lately. Still, I enjoy my job. It keeps things interesting, that's for sure."

Brom smiled. "I can imagine. Well, we appreciate your information. Thank you."

Martin grunted and downed the rest of his ale while the three travelers got up and left the Green Chestnut.

* * *

They found Angela the herbalist rather easily. She was a short, curly haired woman, sitting outside her shop with a frog in one hand and a small notebook in the other. Apparently, she was performing some kind of study on the creature because she was constantly glancing back and forth from it to her writing.

Brom approached her and politely asked. "Could you tell us which house Jeod lives in?"

"I could," was her answer, though she did not look up.

"…will you tell us?"

"Yes," she said, again without meeting their eyes.

Several moments of silence passed and Eragon's impatience was growing, but then Angela looked up and arched an eyebrow. "Well, of course I'll tell you! But you aren't asking the right questions! You first asked _if_ I could tell you and then whether or not I _would_ , but you never put the question to me."

Brom smirked and tried again. "Then allow me to word this properly: which one of the houses is Jeod's?"

"And why do you have a frog?" Murtagh asked for the sake of his curiosity.

"There you have it!" she exclaimed cheerily before gesturing to one of the buildings. "Jeod's is the house on the right. As for the frog, he's actually a toad. I'm trying to prove that toads don't exist and that there are only frogs."

Eragon arched an eyebrow. "That doesn't make any sense. If there's a toad in your hand, then surely they must exist?"

"No, no, you're missing the idea," Angela corrected. "If I can prove that this in my hand is a frog and not a toad, and that toads do not exist, then this was always a frog and never a toad. Therefore, the toad you see before you does not even exist! And if toads don't exist, how will witches and nasty sorcerers use toads to make evil spells? Well, they couldn't! Because toads would not exist!"

Murtagh ran that through his head and the only conclusion he could find was that she was probably the craziest person he had ever met. Eragon was thinking something along the same lines, but Brom chuckled. "Well, I'd ask more about your research, but I have an appointment with Jeod that I cannot afford to miss."

"Of course. Do take care!" Angela waved them off and returned to her notes about toads and frogs.

Once they were out of earshot, Eragon muttered. "She's out of her mind!"

"She could be," Brom replied. "But then she might not be. Don't criticize because she may discover something useful. Who knows, it could be that toads really are frogs, after all!"

"Should I expect the ground at my feet to turn to gold as well?" Murtagh asked dryly.

Ignoring him, Brom walked to the door they had been pointed to and knocked on it. A minute went by and there was no response.

"…maybe this is the wrong house?" Eragon offered.

Brom pounded the door three more times, and it was then that they heard someone running to the entrance. It cracked open to reveal a young woman with pale skin and honey blonde hair. She looked as though she had been crying, for her eyes were red and puffy, but her voice did not sway.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, m'lady. Does Jeod live here?" Brom asked politely.

She nodded. "Yes, he is my husband. Is he expecting you?"

"Not to my knowledge, but we must see him."

The woman frowned. "He's very busy right now."

"We have traveled quite far. It is important that we speak with him."

"Does he know you?"

Brom nodded. "He does. Jeod and I are old colleagues."

She seemed to think about it, then sighed. "Very well, just wait here a moment."

She closed the door and walked back inside. Eragon cast a frown at Brom. "That was a little pushy, don't you think?"

"Keep your opinions to yourself," the old man growled. "And don't speak unless I say so. Let me do the talking."

"As usual," Murtagh grumbled.

Brom probably would have retorted to the comment had the door not opened that second and revealed a tall man with wispy gray hair and a scar across his scalp to his temple.

At the sight of them, he sagged against the doorway and his jaw dropped. "Brom…? Is that you?"

Brom quietly smiled and grasped the man's arm firmly. "It's been far too long, Jeod. I'm glad you remember me, but don't use my name. Unfortunate things may occur if anyone knew I was here."

Jeod glanced from him, to Murtagh, to Eragon, then back to the old man. His eyes were wild. "What happened? Why haven't you contacted me? I thought you died sixteen years ago!"

"All will be explained," Brom promised. "But for now, is there somewhere we may speak in private?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Not here, but there is a place. Just wait a moment."

Jeod dove back into the house in a hurry. Eragon and Murtagh exchanged glances, apparently thinking the same thing- they were hoping to learn something about Brom's past.

Within a few minutes, Jeod was back with them and they were led towards the citadel. He gestured to the castle, which was their destination. "We merchants have to keep an office in there. Lord Risthart insists on it, even if it is rubbish, but it keeps him happy. The walls in there are thick, so eavesdropping won't be possible."

* * *

Once they were safely in a room used to hold conferences between merchants, Jeod locked the doors, piled wood into the fireplace and lit it ablaze. With that, he took a seat on a lavish chair and pointed at Brom with a long finger. "You, old man, had better explain yourself."

"Old man?" Brom scowled, but it was amused. "You're one to talk, aren't you? There was no gray in your hair the last time I saw you. Now it looks like it's all about to fall out!"

Jeod smirked. "Yet it's been sixteen years and you haven't changed much. Time seems to have deemed you an ageless old man with a duty to hurt the next generation's brains with your ridiculous amount of wisdom. But get on with the story! That's the good part with you, as it always is."

"Where to begin…probably best to start with Gil'ead I suppose," Brom sighed. "You recall what we were looking for, yes?"

"As if I could forget something so important."

"Aye. Well, after we were separated by…our enemy, I was grievously wounded. He left me for dead, but I had strength enough to move. In my efforts to find a healer, I happened upon a small room and found some bandages that I used to bind my wounds. But fate made up for my injuries in a great way, for I found what we were searching for."

Jeod's eyes widened in shock. Brom went on. "I could not risk searching for you while our enemy was still around. I had to run to our…friends. They kept them safe, as promised, and I headed north to Carvahall to hide once my wounds were healed. I'm sorry, but no one else could know I was alive, not even you."

"Then our friends…knew you were alive all along?" Jeod scratched his head and sighed. "I wish they'd have told me. I understand the secrecy, though. But Carvahall? That's on the other side of the Spine, if I'm not mistaken. That's quite the distance to go into hiding. Surely you'd have been safer with our friends, especially after being injured so badly?"

"My reasons for hiding in Carvahall are…complicated," Brom murmured quietly. "But I can assure you that it was absolutely necessary."

Eragon scowled. He could tell they were trying to hide something from him and Murtagh, deliberately not speaking about the matter in their presence. However, Murtagh didn't seem too troubled by it.

"So you're fulfilling your duty now?"

"If it were that simple…" the old man shook his head. "Both of them were stolen- at least, I presume they were. I've had no word from our friends, so I suspect that their messengers were intercepted. Eragon and Murtagh's uncle was violently killed by the Ra'zac, and their home burned to the ground. They deserve their revenge, so we're trying to track them down. Unfortunately, we lost their trail a week ago."

"I see…" Jeod tapped his chin thoughtfully. "However, I don't know where the Ra'zac are, and I seriously doubt anyone will tell you. But you didn't just come here with that, did you?"

A ghost of a smile found Brom's lips. He tossed the Ra'zac's flask to Jeod. "That's Seithr oil in there- the nasty kind. The Ra'zac were carrying it with them. We need to see the shipping records so that we can trace the Empire's purchase of the oil and determine where those fiends are holed up."

Jeod developed a rather deep frown. "You've gotten yourself into a task that could take months, Brom. All those records are kept in this castle, but they are so extensive that tracking down a shipment of Seithr oil is going to be exceedingly difficult. Moreover, we'd have to sneak in to get at them, because only the administer of trade in Teirm, Brand, is allowed direct access."

Brom took a smoke from his pipe and then glanced at the brothers standing behind him. "Do you two mind leaving Jeod and I be for a bit? We have some things to speak of that are entirely private."

Eragon bristled and was about to retort, but Murtagh shrugged. "Sure. Come on, little brother."

* * *

Once they were outside, Eragon gave Murtagh an incredulous look. "What are you doing? You know that they're talking about something important and sent us out here on purpose so we wouldn't hear! They're hiding something from us!"

"Of course they are," Murtagh made a wide grin which surprised Eragon. "And that's why, little brother, we are going to eavesdrop."

"Out here?"

"Did you forget?" Murtagh smirked. "I recall Brom teaching us a spell to enhance our hearing, don't you?"

Eragon took a moment to recall that before he grinned. "Now that you mention it…"

Without hesitating, both of them took a seat by the horses (which were tied up outside the castle) and muttered quietly. "Thvrr stenr un atra eka horna."

Just like that, they could hear loud and clear the conversation between Brom and Jeod.

"Tronjheim is running low on supplies," Jeod was saying. "With my ships and the ships of my fellow traders who smuggled goods into Surda being sunk, we have no way of giving them the rations they need. It's been hard on Ajihad and Hrothgar, especially considering the elves are being extremely frosty now."

"I can't say I blame Islanzadi for being hostile," Brom murmured. "No doubt some traitor brought word to the King that the eggs were being carried back to Du Weldenvarden. She's probably so furious that she won't contact us for years."

"Surely she wouldn't be that cold?" Jeod's voice seemed worried. "Without her help, the Varden won't survive. I know that these are unusual circumstances-"

"-Jeod, you know how much the elves value their children," sighed the old man. "Islanzadi just lost her only daughter, and I don't have to remind you that Evandar was slain nearly a century ago as well. She's grieving, of that I have no doubt, but her wrath is not something to tarry with. As Queen, she can effectively shut down any communication with the elves at all. No, we will get no help from them until this is resolved."

"The only way we'll get through to her is with Eragon and Murtagh, isn't it? The only thing that could get her attention is if we showed up at her doorstep with two Riders and their dragons. At least then she would know that her daughter's life wasn't lost for nothing."

"I am not bringing those boys anywhere near the Varden or Islanzadi until at least the first stage of their training has been completed," Brom immediately replied. "The Varden alone, forget the elves and dwarves, would tear them apart. Eragon and Murtagh are not ready for that, and neither are Saphira or Thorn."

"They're rather special to you, aren't they?"

"Bah, they're going to retire me to an early grave at this rate. Both of those brothers are reckless and trouble seems to gravitate around them. In fact, I think we'd better go see them now before they lay the city to ruin. Your messenger will be ready at dawn, you say?"

"He will be."

"Good."

"You're not really surprised that trouble follows them, are you?"

"Hah! If I was, then I would be quite the fool indeed."

Eragon and Murtagh heard footsteps next, so they ended the spell and gave each other a glance with wide eyes. Neither of them knew exactly how to respond to the stolen knowledge. After a brief discussion, they simply decided to wait for the time being, then confront Brom about it later.

Brom came out and glanced at them. "You two haven't gone and gotten yourselves into any trouble, have you?"

"We're not that bad!" Eragon protested.

"Oh yes you are," the old man scoffed. "Otherwise, I wouldn't ask."

Jeod hid a smirk while Eragon scowled, but Murtagh just shrugged. "So, what now?"

"I was thinking we could return to my home and have some dinner. I'm sure the three of you must be hungry," Jeod offered.

As if on cue, Eragon's stomach rumbled loudly. The boy reddened while Murtagh grinned. "Well, if that groaning bear is anything to go by, I'd say food would be very much appreciated."

Brom chuckled as Eragon made to swing at Murtagh, who simply avoided the playful strike. "Now, now, boys. Come along, let's get going."

* * *

Once their bellies were full and everyone was settled down in Jeod's home office, Brom explained their plan to contact Brand and get a hold of the records.

"It's going to be no simple task," he remarked. "We all must help."

Eragon shifted awkwardly and Murtagh had his arms crossed.

Jeod arched an eyebrow at them. "Something the matter?"

"No…well, yes…" Eragon sighed and gave in. "We can't help with the records."

"Why not?" Brom demanded.

Murtagh scowled and looked away, avoiding their eyes. "We never learned how to read."

Brom's jaw dropped until his pipe fell from his mouth. "Are you seriously saying that Garrow never taught you?"

"He could read?" Eragon was surprised.

"Of course the proud fool could," Brom sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, this throws a wrench into my plans, but it won't set us back too badly. I will teach the both of you how to read. It isn't hard if you put your mind to it- you're both smart."

Murtagh shrugged, apparently still rather flustered that he couldn't read. Mind you, he and Eragon had asked their uncle numerous times if there was any way they could learn, but Garrow always seemed to be reluctant. There was too much work to do, he would say. It's an unnecessary luxury, he would say.

Cranky old man, Murtagh would say, then receive a rather painful cuff to the back of his head.

He cracked a grin at the memory. Eragon had once pestered Garrow to the point that their uncle had sent the boy out hunting just to have a moment of quiet.

It had not been a particularly long respite.

"You'll both enjoy reading, I think," Jeod offered a smile. "You can learn a lot from books. They each have their own unique tale, their own voice, and lessons to take heart of."

"I guess it's something to look forward to," Eragon replied simply, but he seemed excited by the prospect. Murtagh was certain that underneath the neutral face, he was probably jumping for joy.

Apparently, the talk of expanding their knowledge brought interesting thoughts to Eragon's mind, for he gave Brom a curious look a moment later. "I was wondering, is it possible to conjure up an image of something that you can't see?"

Brom nodded with a glance at Jeod. "What you're talking about is called scrying. It's entirely possible and quite useful in some situations, but there are limits to it. You can only see something that you have seen before. If you are scrying someone and have never seen the place where they are, it will appear as though they are surrounded by darkness. So if you're thinking about trying to scry the Ra'zac, you won't get anywhere with it unless they're somewhere that you're familiar with."

"Where'd that idea come from?" Murtagh asked.

Eragon shrugged. "Just off the top of my head, I suppose. Can I try it?"

"If you want to scry, then make sure you're using a reflective surface like a mirror or water. It's much harder to conjure an image into thin air. But no, you shouldn't try it now. It takes a good deal of energy and you're tired as it is. I'll tell you the words, though- Draumr kopa."

"Dream stare," Jeod translated softly. "It can be quite the beautiful magic."

"Can you use magic?" Murtagh asked him.

Jeod laughed. "No, I cannot. My magic is in books and scrolls, and I'm happy as long as I have those with me."

Brom grunted. "Very well, off to bed, you two. It's high time we all retire for the night."

No one argued with him.

* * *

The brothers were allowed to explore Teirm the next morning. For their own sake, Brom told them to stay together, though Eragon and Murtagh both insisted they didn't need to babysit each other. Eventually, they just agreed so that he would let them go.

Their dragons were displeased that they were being left outside of the city and away from their Riders. Saphira and Thorn already hated hiding, but they made clear to Eragon and Murtagh that they should visit now and again until their mission was finished. So once the brothers were clear of Brom's nagging, Murtagh decided to slip out of Teirm so he could meet with Thorn, while Eragon remained in the city to explore.

Murtagh reached the bottom of a cliff from which he could see Thorn and Saphira at the peak. He grinned as his dragon let out a pleased cry.

 _Miss me?_ Murtagh asked.

 _Of course I did! Saphira's fun, but she's not you!_

The blue female let out a mild hiss. _Since he's your Rider, I won't take offense to that- this time._

 _Settle down, Saphira- you're plenty fun,_ Murtagh assured her.

She sniffed. _Eragon didn't come with you?_

 _No. One of us has to stay in the city for now. Just to keep the old man happy. Don't worry, I'll make sure he comes out here tomorrow to see you. But right now- Thorn!_

 _I know!_

The red dragon leaped from the cliff's edge and flew down to him. Murtagh quickly climbed on and they were airborne in seconds. He laughed at the feeling of exhilaration rushing through his blood.

Thorn rolled in the air and climbed higher. _What shall we do?_

 _I've got an idea. How do you fancy a bath?_

The dragon glanced back at him with a curious blink. _How do you propose we manage that?_

 _The sea is laid out before us! Let's fly out where there are no people watching and swim!_

Thorn chuckled and veered to the left. _Very well, we're getting wet!_

He flew out several miles so that there would be no witnesses to their fun. Thorn landed by the shore and let Murtagh dismount. The young man stripped down to his underwear and glanced at his dragon, who was studying him curiously.

"What is it?" asked Murtagh.

 _Nothing- it's just that the build of humans intrigues me. I find it strange how such gangly looking creatures with no teeth, claws, or tail can come to conquer entire continents. You really are an unusual species._

"So what, you're studying me?"

 _Something like that._

"Study me later- let's go swimming! I've never been to the ocean before and I know you haven't either!" Murtagh exclaimed.

Thorn grinned toothily and followed Murtagh towards the shoreline, where they both stepped into the water at once. The young man let out a slight exhale as they strode into the waves and the water came up to his waist. It was surprisingly warmer than he thought it would be, but still fairly cold.

He looked over to the dragon and was surprised to see Thorn swimming in a circle around him, like a crimson sea serpent. Thorn moved so smoothly in the water, despite the small waves breaking against them. He let out a little trill of happiness and curved so that his snout came to bump Murtagh's chest.

Murtagh grinned and rubbed the dragon's snout, then scratched under his chin. Thorn rumbled in appreciation at the gesture- he was a sucker for that spot, Murtagh knew. His dragon partner was fully aware of all the places that provided great scratches. His favorite was without doubt at the point where Thorn's wings met his shoulder blades.

As Thorn twisted around him in the water, Murtagh's hand slid over the glittering red scales until they reached that spot where his wing and shoulder connected. He started scratching there and Thorn immediately relaxed and went limp, simply floating on the waves. Murtagh laughed as the dragon's lips curled in a blissful grin. He kept scratching, then ducked under the water, swam underneath Thorn to his other side, and gave his opposite wing the same treatment. Thorn started purring and the vibration filled the water.

Murtagh loved Thorn. The dragon was like a piece of him that he never knew he'd been missing. He was proud, fierce, loyal, but also relaxed and very affectionate when it was just them.

 _Well, they do say that dragons take after their Riders,_ Thorn commented.

"I believe it," Murtagh replied. "But not entirely. Saphira is definitely more mature than Eragon is."

 _You'd be surprised,_ Thorn remarked. _Just don't tell her I said that._

* * *

They ended up swimming for hours. For a while, Murtagh rode Thorn and they swam around, simply enjoying each other's presence and the excitement of the sea. They dove down and Murtagh watched Thorn try to catch fish (with varied success). When they grew tired, Murtagh and Thorn simply floated, then retreated out of the water to dry off on the beach.

Murtagh sat by a small fire with Thorn, drying off his damp skin with the heat. Thorn was curled around him and the flames to speed up the process, so Murtagh leaned against the dragon's flank and talked for a while, exchanging information regarding the Ra'zac and their mission in Teirm.

Thorn let out a growl at the concept of the dangerous power struggle being waged over them. _Foolishness- why argue with each other when it's clear we are going to fight the King? Are they not all on the same side?_

"Beats me…but it sounds like we'll need to grow a lot more before we're ready to go to the Varden, much less the elves. I've heard stories about them, but I didn't realize just how strong they were," Murtagh remarked. "Brom makes them sound as powerful as a Shade or a Rider even without a dragon. The elves that became Riders must have been extraordinary…"

 _But we can surpass them,_ Thorn said determinedly. _We are unlike any Rider and dragon that there ever was, save Eragon and Saphira. Only the first Rider and dragon could understand growing up in the wilderness, raising a dragon in secret so that they may fight for a good cause. No, we can and will be stronger than any of the old order. I can feel it._

Murtagh smiled and stroked Thorn's snout gently. "Thank you, Thorn."

 _You're welcome, my brother._

* * *

At the same time that Murtagh and Thorn were enjoying their swimming festivities, Eragon got bored wandering about and found himself back at Angela's herbalist shop. She wasn't sitting outside like she had been before, so he entered the shop and took a look around.

The room was covered in plants. It smelled of herbs, but surprisingly, it wasn't an overpowering aroma. The scents seemed to vary into ones that he found appealing- crushed pine being prominent among them. There were a variety of items around the room that seemed more and more unusual as he saw them.

There was a bird with colorful feathers and a strong beak that he had never seen before. It gave him a curious look with sharp eyes until it was almost uncomfortable, but then the bird apparently lost interest and went back to preening its feathers. Aside from the odd bird, there were strange rocks, scrolls, blades- it wasn't quite the herbalist shop he had imagined.

Suddenly, a large cat with glowing red eyes leapt out of the shadows nearby and landed on a long counter. The animal looked at him while kneading its large paws on the wood surface, inspecting him for lack of a better word. Eragon decided to try and reassure it that he was a friend in case it was thinking of attacking him.

He touched its mind and sent gentle thoughts, but was alarmed when a voice responded.

 _There's no need for that._

Eragon paused and glanced around. _Saphira?_

 _I am most certainly_ not _Saphira._

He stared at the cat and it flicked its tail at him in amusement. Eragon hesitantly tried again.

 _Was that you?_

 _Now you're getting it. Well done- for a moment I thought you were the most foolish Dragon Rider of all time,_ the cat let out a little huff, but it seemed as though the creature was chuckling.

Eragon's jaw dropped. _Wait- but you're just a cat!_

He- for his voice was definitely male- bared his teeth and exposed startlingly long saber teeth. _It seems your education has been neglected, for I am not some common feline. I- to correct your error- am a werecat. There aren't too many of us left, but I expected a Dragon Rider to at least have heard of us._

 _I didn't know you were real._

 _Surprise,_ the cat's snarl turned into a fanged grin. _You woke me up from my nap, but seeing as you're not just an average and boring troublemaker, I think I'll forgive you this time. Just don't do it again._

 _I'm sorry,_ Eragon apologized sincerely. He was excited to have met this creature- werecats were present at almost every great legend, giving advice and offering guidance when it was needed.

Bright crimson orbs blinked at Eragon. _What's your name, Dragon Rider?_

 _Eragon._

The werecat seemed briefly surprised. _You really aren't just some average troublemaker, or even an unusual troublemaker. It's not often someone is named after the first Rider. You have a powerful and rare name, Eragon._

 _Thank you. What's your name?_

 _I have many names and if you're looking for my original one, you must look elsewhere. However, you may refer to me as Solembum._

 _Solembum. I'll remember the name,_ Eragon promised.

Solembum started purring and it was then that Angela walked in from the back of the store. She exchanged a glance with the werecat and then looked at Eragon with a startled expression. "He says you talked to him."

"You can speak with him too?"

"Of course, but that doesn't mean he'll speak back to me. Werecats are tricky creatures. The first to speak with Solembum was a woman, and then a blind man second. You are the third, and I daresay the most unusual by far. You are Eragon?"

"Yes."

"Is that who you are, or your name?" Angela gave him an inquisitive look.

He thought about that for a second before smiling slightly. "Both."

She had a curious expression on her face and glanced at Solembum. "It's rare that he speaks to someone of his own accord. I'll tell you what…wait here."

Angela retreated to the back and rummaged around for a while, then came back with a small leather pouch. She sat down at the counter and loosened the sack so the contents fell out. A handful of smooth bones appeared, inscribed with runes and symbols.

"These are the knucklebones of a dragon," Angela told him. "Don't ask how I got them because I won't say, but unlike crystal balls or tarot cards, these have true power. With them, I can cast your fortune and tell you some aspects of your future. The answers are never clear, but I can always dig a few things out of them. Would you like me to cast the bones and find your fortune?"

Eragon arched his brow. "Why would you offer this to me? I can't imagine you bring these out often."

"No, I certainly do not. But the reason I offer them is because Solembum has deemed you important- and that means your life is going to be very difficult. I imagine a few answers would be welcome, but you can decline if you choose. Sometimes, knowing ones future is worse than not knowing. The woman who came here was the only one who allowed me to cast the bones, and her future was bleak. But still…"

Angela's eyes filled with a strange light. "Despite such pain, there was life in her future as well. At the time, I do believe she was pregnant…and I think it made her happy to know that her child- or children- would survive, even if her own fate was a horrible one. Her name was Selena."

Eragon's eyes widened. "Selena?"

"Aye. But enough of that- I've said too much about her fortune as it is. That was for her and her alone. What about you? Will you have the bones cast?"

He was still a little disturbed by his mother's name coming up. _Was it her? What could have been so bleak about her future? And yet she was happy that her children would survive? Well…if it was her, then she had the courage to do this…I will do the same._

"Cast the bones for me, please," Eragon told Angela.

Her face took on a grave expression as she took the bones in her hands and chanted. "Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!"

She cast the bones upon the table and Eragon's ears rang as he realized, startled, that she was using the ancient language. He took this more seriously as a result, because it meant that Angela was a witch- her words were true and she did not lie. This was no common fortunetelling.

Angela scanned the bones for a long time, glaring at the runes and symbols in an effort to uncover their secrets. Eragon waited patiently in silence. After a few minutes, Solembum jumped into his lap and gave him a look which demanded attention, so Eragon scratched his ears. The werecat purred in delight.

At last, Angela grabbed her wineskin from underneath the counter and took a short drink. Once she swallowed, the herbalist gave Eragon a steady look. "This is no easy fortune to read by any means. Your life is filled with more twists and turns than I could have imagined, and it's especially tricky as a result. I was, however, able to get some answers out of them."

She pointed to a symbol resembling a horizontal line with a circle upon it. "This is the rune for infinity, or long life. I have never seen it in person before, but this means that your life will be extraordinarily long or you may even live forever."

"Unfortunately, the next part the bones offer isn't a happy one," she pointed next to a symbol like a sailing ship, a twisting path, and what looked like a cloud with several lightning bolts. "The path symbolizes that many choices lie ahead of you, some easy and difficult, but all necessary. The sailing ship is another unusual one that I have only ever heard of, but never seen- it means that you will leave Alagaesia forever, never to return. When you will leave and why are not known to me, but it will happen one day."

"The clouds and lightning are a disturbing sign- you will scourge over your enemies and slay countless foes, but the cloud is the part that requires concern. That implies that your battles may cause turmoil in your heart. You must be careful not to lose yourself to the chaos and terror that is war."

Eragon was definitely regretting the fortunetelling now. He was starting to feel sick. _I'm going to kill so many people that it will affect my heart? And I'm going to live forever like that? Is that why I'll leave Alagaesia? What could possibly force me to leave?_

"Aha!" He startled as Angela grinned at him widely. "I found some rather happier news. Take a look at this."

She pointed out to him a rose blossom inscribed between the points of a crescent moon. The herbalist winked at him suggestively. "That symbol means that there is an epic romance in your future. I don't know who this woman is, but she is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare. As for how this passion will end, I do not know, but your love is of noble birth and heritage."

Eragon arched an eyebrow in great surprise. _That doesn't sound right. I'm the poorest of farmers, and I'm not even that anymore! I'm just a wanderer with no place to call home anymore._

"Alas, I wish that I had saved that for last, because this last bit is going to be thoroughly unpleasant- It would appear as though an evil lies in your family, one who has forsaken everything and will bring upon you ruin and death. Tread carefully with this one, for your fate may depend on slaying this person one day."

"Hold on, who is it?!" Eragon demanded. _Roran?! No, it couldn't be Roran and Murtagh would never! Who then?_

"I do not know who it is," Angela shook her head with a sigh. "But regardless, this will come to pass. You cannot escape it, for you will face this person as an enemy one day. That is all I have managed to wrest from the bones. I apologize for not offering more…your future is truly a complicated one."

"No…it's fine…" he gave her a curious expression. "You used words of power."

Angela's eyes flashed. "You are going to be a one worth watching as you grow up. You can speak to werecats, know of the ancient language, and have an uncannily confused future. And even more interesting, not every average traveler wearing such ragged clothing can expect to be loved by a noblewoman. Even fewer carry the name of the first Rider. Exactly who or what are you?"

Eragon gave her a slight smile. "I suppose you'll have to wait and find out."

She grinned and made to drink some more wine. "I might just do that. Who were the two men with you yesterday? The old one and that other young fellow like yourself?"

"The younger one is my elder brother, Murtagh," Eragon told her. "The old man is Brom."

Angela suddenly choked on her drink and beat against her chest for a few moments to regain her breath. She let out a surprised gasp. "Oh my- that one! I didn't have a clue!"

"What?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that Brom's future is something of a joke with my kind," the herbalist giggled slightly.

Eragon offered a glare. "Don't insult him. He's a better man than you could ever imagine!"

"Peace," Angela held up her hands. "I meant no offense. I'll tell you what I mean another time. Anyways-"

She paused as Solembum sat upright in Eragon's lap and gazed straight into his eyes. The werecat seemed very focused on something.

 _What is it?_ Eragon asked, a little irritated.

 _Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa Tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, travel to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls._

He clammed up after that and nothing Eragon said could persuade him to say more. When Angela simply shrugged after he asked her to talk to the werecat, the boy sighed.

"Like I said, he doesn't always respond," she offered an apologetic smile. "But whatever he said to you, keep it to yourself and don't take it for granted. The words of werecats are not to be taken lightly."

"I'll remember them," Eragon agreed, then stood up. "I'd best be going. I don't want anyone to miss me."

Angela waved as he left. "Bye! I'll see you again someday!"

Solembum simply flicked his tail and stared after Eragon with bright red eyes. Once the boy was out of sight, Angela gave him a look.

 _Solembum. I know you. It's not like you to show such interest in anyone, even in a Dragon Rider._

The werecat did not respond outright. His tail was still twitching lightly and Angela could see that his eyes were fiercely concentrated.

 _…_ _you know something, don't you?_

 _…_ _I know that his path is his, and his alone. It is not our place to interfere with it._

The werecat jumped off the counter and made to go outside, but Angela wasn't done. _Is he a threat?_

Solembum turned his head to give her a toothy grin. _Now, that would depend on which side you are on._

The witch smirked. That was just like the werecat to give her an unclear answer. She was used to it- Angela was a patient person, and Solembum would reveal what was needed in due time.

For now, all they could do was watch and wait.


	9. Tracking the Ra'zac

_Chapter 9: Tracking the Ra'zac_

When Eragon and Murtagh returned from their daily activities to Jeod's house, they found Brom in the study. The old man was smoking his pipe and glaring into the fire. His anger seemed to radiate the flame's heat.

Murtagh took one look at Brom's face and grunted. "I take it that your meeting with Brand went splendidly, then?"

The old man turned and scowled at him. "It was a damned mess! That… _incorruptible bureaucrat_ is without doubt the most ridiculous noble I've ever met! He follows every single rule down to the letter, makes his own whenever it is possible to irritate someone else, and somehow manages to believe that all he does is for the greater good!"

"He sounds charming," Eragon said dryly.

"Don't give me that right now," Brom snapped. "I can't believe that man. Nothing I said could sway his decision to keep the records locked away. He even refused bribes! Significant ones! I find myself actually wishing that he was one of the greedy bastards I'm used to dealing with."

Once the old man calmed down from his rant a few minutes later, Murtagh broke the silence once more. "So, what's the plan now?"

Brom exhaled a puff of smoke for several seconds before he replied. "I'm going to take the next week and teach you both how to read. Then…"

He grinned rather mischievously. "Then we are going to give Brand a thoroughly nasty surprise."

* * *

The week progressed in a strict routine. Every morning, the boys would get up, eat, then proceed to the study where Brom taught them literacy. Jeod would occasionally join when he wasn't busy working, but his advice was always helpful in the presence of Brom's impatience. Once again using competition as inspiration to get better, Eragon and Murtagh advanced rapidly. In fact, by the end of the week, Murtagh had made a habit of reading one of Jeod's smaller books to Thorn whenever he visited the dragons, though his reading was still slow.

Eragon and Murtagh hated leaving the dragons out for so long. Saphira and Thorn were by no means pleased with it either, so they took turns visiting them every other day. While one brother would stay behind and practice magic with Brom, the other would go to the dragons and tell them the days events. They didn't worry so much about Saphira and Thorn, however, when Eragon once came to them and found the dragons tucked into the carcass of a large deer.

Food was apparently not a problem. The dragons bellies would actually bulge after large meals like that. Eragon had only commented on that detail once.

He still had a welt from Saphira's tail slap on his leg.

All the while, disturbing news persistently traveled to them in Teirm from the countryside- apparently, more vicious attacks on trading ships had occurred. There was a tension to the air that made the town feel restless. Nothing was going well, but there was nothing to be done without any knowledge of who was behind the strange attacks.

Once the week was up, Brom gathered the group in Jeod's study once again for a quick discussion regarding their plan. It was short and to the point, but it was clear that they would be leaving soon- either that night, or the day after.

The night before the plan was put into play, Eragon had a startlingly vivid dream. He saw a young woman in a dark, freezing cell. Her wrists were suspended above her by cruel chains and her head was bowed. The clothes she wore were in tatters and she looked to be trembling. A single glint of light reflected off of her cheek- a tear, like liquid crystal.

He woke right after that and found himself crying.

* * *

They prepared for the raid right before sundown.

Eragon and Murtagh had their bows with them. Brom had ordered the brothers to leave their swords in the house because they would only be slowed down by the weapons. In addition, he didn't want the blades to be seen by anyone and recognized.

Brom himself carried his typical staff and sword, while Jeod had a rapier. The weapon was long and thin, but didn't appear as if it would be good for very much fighting.

That said, it wasn't like they had planned to fight if they could get away with it.

They walked to the gates of the castle and Jeod pounded on the door. There was a short grumble from the other side, then a guard slid open a grille. He glanced at the group and sighed in exasperation. Murtagh could smell the alcohol on his breath from where he stood.

"What d'ya want?" the guard asked.

Jeod put on an annoyed expression. "I need to get into my office because this _boy_ left something valuable there. We must retrieve it tonight."

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Eragon, who did his best to look ashamed. Murtagh made a show of cuffing him over the head, also looking irritated.

The guard snickered and nodded. "Al'righ, just don' get into any trouble, ya hear? An' give that kid a good beatin fer me."

"Oh, I will," Jeod assured him.

The gate opened a moment later and the guard let them in. As they walked past, Brom handed the guard a few coins.

"For your trouble," the old man told him.

The guard nodded appreciatively. "Thanks very much."

They got into the castle and once the group was completely out of sight, the brothers took their bows out and strung them. Jeod led them through the dark halls, eventually coming to the door which would let them into the records room. Brom tried the door, but it was locked. He muttered a quick word and the lock clicked open quietly. The group slipped into the room and closed it behind them without so much as a sound.

The room had wooden racks that were piled high with scrolls. There was a single barred window high up the wall, but it let in enough moonlight for them to see clearly.

Jeod set his writing utensils down and a blank parchment to record what they found. He walked over to the scrolls at the back of the room and gestured to the ones with red stamps on them. "These are for taxes. You can ignore those, but everything else needs to be looked through. Record anything that mentions Seithr oil."

It was long and tedious work. The scrolls contained so much information on them that they had to go through them almost word for word in order to avoid missing any mention of their quarry. Hours passed and they were undisturbed, until Eragon felt as though he was being watched.

He glanced up towards the window and froze. There was a small boy with shaggy hair and slanted eyes watching him. The child was sitting casually on the windowsill.

 _You look like you need help._

Eragon blinked in surprise. _Solembum? Is that you?_

 _Do I appear to be someone else?_ Solembum smirked in amusement.

 _In fact, you do,_ Eragon replied slowly. _What are you doing here?_

 _Well, that would depend on what you are doing here,_ the werecat answered. _If you are simply here for fun, then I suppose I'm just taking a nightly stroll. But if you are doing something that should not be discovered by others, then I might be here to warn you that the guard you bribed told his replacement about you. At this moment, he has sent soldiers into the castle to look for you._

The information alarmed Eragon, but he remained calm. _Thank you for telling me._

 _You're welcome. I'd get moving quickly, if I were you,_ Solembum warned. He flashed Eragon a fanged grin and leapt down from the window, disappearing into the night.

Eragon glanced back at the others. "There are guards looking for us."

"What!" Murtagh exclaimed.

"How do you know that?" demanded Brom sharply.

"I was listening in on the guard. His replacement just sent soldiers in to find us."

Jeod's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Eragon replied with urgency. "They're on their way!"

Brom threw another scroll open and glared at it. "No matter- we'll just have to finish this quickly."

They worked as fast as they could for then next few minutes. Once the last scroll was searched, they got all their things together and quickly left the room. Brom closed the door as the sound of footsteps running started heading towards them. He growled and muttered something, then the lock clicked as the soldiers came around the corner.

"Stop right there! Why are you trying to get into the records?" demanded one of the guards.

Jeod gave him a surprised look. "Records? Ah- we're on the wrong side of the castle! I must have taken a wrong turn. I apologize sir. It seems we've lost our way."

The soldier looked suspicious, so he told one of his men to open the door. When the door refused to open (since Brom had locked it again) the guard glanced back at his leader. "It's locked, sir."

"Alright. Well, I don't know how you ended up here, but since the door is locked I guess you're free to go. Come on- we'll escort you out."

Once the guards had surrounded them, they were led out of the castle. Eragon couldn't believe their luck. The ones who might have ruined their whole plan were they themselves helping them escape.

The soldiers opened the gates and pointed. "Now you walk out through there with no trouble and whatever you need, you can come get tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir," Jeod replied. He led the others out through the gate and the doors closed with a definite thud.

* * *

The second they were back in Jeod's house, Murtagh let out a laugh. "We did it!"

"Don't celebrate quite yet," Brom warned. "We have to see if all that trouble we went through was worth it."

Once they were in the study again, Jeod pulled out a map of Alagaesia and spread it over his desk. Then Brom set the information they had recovered beside the map and the group began to scan over it all.

Murtagh jabbed his finger at Uru'baen's mark on the map, smack-dab in the middle of the Empire. "The Ra'zac definitely have a hiding place here. There's no better protection than Galbatorix himself and his dragon, Shruikan."

"I hope that's not their only hiding place," Eragon muttered. "Shruikan's over a hundred years old- can you imagine how much bigger he is than Saphira and Thorn?"

"Neither of you are going anywhere near Uru'baen, so forget that," Brom immediately said. He glanced at their notes and then back to the map. "It seems there have been shipments of Seithr oil to every major city in the Empire, but I think we can cross a few off the list. First of all, the place where the Ra'zac hide must have access to every corner of the Empire so that they can change locations quickly. Second, there has to be enough trade going back and forth in the city to conceal anything they need- like food for the Lethrblaka."

Jeod nodded thoughtfully. "Well based on that, we can cross out basically all of the cities in the north. The only big ones out here are Teirm- and I know for a fact they are not here- Gil'ead, and Ceunon. Ceunon is too isolated, but Gil'ead might be possible."

Brom made a mark by Gil'ead and grunted. "So that's one likely candidate there. What about the cities in the south?"

"Well, there's obviously Uru'baen, but I doubt that's their permanent residence," replied Jeod. "The Ra'zac are assassins sent out across the countryside so that their presence remains inconspicuous and nigh impossible to track. I'm sure Galbatorix has his own group of personal assassins in case he needs to remove someone in his own city, but I highly doubt it's the Ra'zac. Especially if they're using Seithr oil- any noble has access to those records and could trace it."

"There actually wasn't much oil sent to Uru'baen," Eragon remarked as he looked over the records. "Most of it was sent to Dras Leona, Aroughs, Belatona, and Kuasta."

"Forget Kuasta. It's nowhere near the crossroads and trade only flows in two directions," his brother responded to the name immediately. "Also, Aroughs might be a center of trade, but it's just as isolated as Ceunon is. That leaves Belatona and Dras Leona, but I think Dras Leona is the more likely of the two. It's closer to the center of the Empire and is much larger."

Jeod nodded. "It helps that nearly all trade flows through there as well, including Teirm's. It would make hiding the Ra'zac's trail all too easy."

Brom marked Belatona and Dras Leona as well and scratched his beard. "So, Dras Leona…what do the records show us?"

Murtagh scanned the parchment and pointed. "Here we go. At the beginning of this year, three shipments of oil were sent to Dras Leona. Each shipment was two weeks apart and all were bought by the same merchant. The same thing happened last year and the year before that."

A quiet whistle left Eragon's lips. "That's an awful lot of money. How many merchant's can afford purchases on that scale?"

"No single merchant or merchant guild is capable of buying that much oil unless they have funds coming in secretly from the Empire," Brom said dismissively. "There's no one outside of lords and earls who could buy so much, and even fewer that would retain their wealth afterwards."

"What about Gil'ead?" Eragon asked.

Jeod shook his head. "No, they've only received the oil twice in recent years. Moreover, they don't have access to all trade routes like Dras Leon or Uru'baen does."

"I think we've forgotten something as well, Jeod," Brom suddenly jabbed his finger at a construct beside Dras Leona. "Helgrind."

"The dark gates," murmured Jeod. He fixed his gaze on the mark depicting Helgrind and nodded decidedly. "I haven't thought of that place in years. You're right, Brom. That would make Dras Leona perfect for the Ra'zac."

Murtagh frowned. "What's Helgrind?"

"You'll see when we get there," Brom told him. "But that's our destination; we're going to Dras Leona."

Jeod rolled up the map of Alagaesia and handed it to the older man. "You'll need this. I can't imagine your journey won't take you into obscure regions of the countryside. You have a habit of getting into places that no man would dare to go."

"It's necessary traveling," scoffed Brom. "Consider yourself lucky that you won't have to make the journey."

"I would like to say I'm going with you, but I'm afraid that my age and responsibilities must keep me here. This new generation will have to take up the mantle in my place, I suppose," Jeod sighed. "But take care of yourself, Brom. I think you may have bitten off more than you can chew."

"Hah! Don't you know me at all?" The old man grinned. "Of course I did. It wouldn't be me if I didn't get us into something so drastic."

Jeod gave him a serious look. "Just don't die on us, old man."

Brom's face became more somber and he nodded. "I make no promises, but I will try my best."

* * *

They left Teirm the next day after a brief farewell with Jeod.

Once the trio was a safe distance from civilization and back in the wilderness, Eragon and Murtagh called their dragons back to them. Saphira and Thorn were happy to see them again and pleased to see Brom, who had not seen them at all during their visit in the port city.

While they were riding the horses, Eragon spoke with Murtagh through his mind.

 _Should we ask him now about his talk with Jeod? About the Varden and what Brom was doing in Gil'ead?_

 _I'd say now's as good a time as any,_ Murtagh agreed. _Thorn? Saphira? Any comments?_

The red male grunted mentally. _I'm curious about these elves he mentioned. If you can get him to say anything regarding them, I'd like to hear it._

 _I am content so long as you tell me what he says,_ Saphira said simply.

With that decided, Murtagh looked at Brom and started talking. "We need to talk."

The old man gave him a wary look that showed he didn't like how this conversation was starting. "About what?"

"There's a lot going on we don't understand," Murtagh explained. "What do you have to do with the Varden and why did you have to hide in Carvahall? Exactly what were you looking for in Gil'ead? Also, what is going on with the elves right now that has to do with us?"

Brom bristled and gave the boys an incredulous look. "You eavesdropped on us!"

"Only once," Eragon told him.

A groan left Brom's lips and he covered his face in his hand. "For the love of…you two might be the most suspicious pair of boys I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Have you no manners?"

"You kind of had it coming, what with kicking us out of the conversation and hiding things from us," Murtagh pointed out.

"I thought you looked a little too accepting of me sending you outside," Brom sighed. "I should have figured. Well, now that you've gone and found out things you aren't supposed to know yet, what makes you think any of this concerns you two?"

Eragon frowned. "Aside from the fact that you ended up hiding in Carvahall of all places along with the various other coincidences involving you? Like why you know so much about dragon lore, magic, and swordplay? No average old man knows things like that. And how could you have known about the Ra'zac? I trust you with my life, but if you're keeping something dangerous from us, I want to know exactly what it is."

Brom stopped Snowfire and glared from brother to brother. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

"When my brother and our dragons' lives might depend on it?" Murtagh arched his brow challengingly. "No."

"Stubborn brats," the old man muttered. "Still, I suppose it's a good thing you aren't so accepting. You wouldn't be worth training if you were. Very well- I'll give you some of the information, but I can't tell you everything. Not to hide things from you," Brom held up a hand when Eragon made to protest. "I can't say everything because there are secrets that aren't mine to tell. That means you'll have to find others with the rest of the story. Can you accept that?"

Eragon and Murtagh glanced at each other and nodded. "Alright. That'll do for now."

"Good," Brom pulled out his pipe and lit it. He took a smoke, gathering his thoughts before he began to talk.

"First and foremost, the Empire and the Varden are at war, as you're well aware, but their power struggle is not based on control- it's based on the two of you. You both are the very core of this conflict."

Eragon gaped. "Why? We've done nothing-"

"-you've become Dragon Riders," Brom jabbed his finger straight up, where Saphira and Thorn were flying overhead. "That's what the war is for. It's sole purpose is to control the new generation of Dragon Riders. Whoever has that power at their backs will rule Alagaesia. Up until now, the Empire was without doubt the ruling force, and that's why the Varden has yet to advance upon Galbatorix."

"Hold on- I was under the impression that all of the dragons were extinct, aside from our dragons and the King's," Murtagh objected. "All the Riders and dragons were killed when Galbatorix betrayed them, right? And all of the Forsworn Riders who followed the King were slain."

Brom sighed and shook his head. "That is not the case. Though Galbatorix tried to retrieve enough eggs to start another generation of Riders, he only managed to steal three. In fact, he only has one now that Saphira and Thorn have hatched."

"Then the odds are evened out," Eragon said. "If he hatches the third egg, then there will still be two Riders on each side."

"That is again, not the case," the old man told them. "Though it's not well known, one of Galbatorix's Forsworn survived the fall of the Riders- his first and most loyal follower, Morzan."

"What!" Murtagh gaped. "But the stories say-"

"-sometimes stories are just stories, boy!" Brom growled. "Morzan is very much alive and well, along with his cursed dragon. The beast is not like yours because it has no name and is more animal than sentient, but it is still as old as Shruikan is. So in fact, the odds are far from even- Galbatorix has two Riders including himself, and a third egg that may very well hatch for another enemy. He is desperately searching for the person whom the egg will hatch for, and if he finds them, your task is going to be nearly impossible."

Eragon and Murtagh exchanged uneasy glances. The older brother looked back to Brom and grunted. "Okay, so now that we know there are still four- perhaps five- dragons in Alagaesia, three of them belonging to the enemy, how did our eggs come to us? And how are you involved in all of this?"

"That I don't know. The eggs were supposed to be with the Varden, but I have a guess as to what happened- the one who was guarding the eggs must have been ambushed by the Empire, and in order to save their precious cargo, they tried to transport them to me."

"In regards to what I have to do with this…I have always hated the Empire from a young age, many years ago. My disgust for Galbatorix led me to join the Varden. Together, we got a man into Uru'baen and arranged to have the eggs stolen. But for some reason, he made a mistake and was unable to get away with all three of them. Moreover, he didn't go back to the Varden, but to Gil'ead."

"I went after him, but Morzan got there first and killed our thief. I fought him there- he and I had a personal grudge against one another. Though the contest was terrible, I would have slain him. Would have, had his dragon not flown in at that moment. In my effort to avoid the dragon's teeth, Morzan rose up and dealt me a grievous wound. He left me for dead and pursued the eggs, but the thief had hidden them somewhere in the city. One of my comrades managed to heal me enough to move and in our attempt to escape, we chanced upon the two eggs. From there, I healed with the Varden and promised to train whoever the eggs hatched for, then I retreated to Carvahall to rest and recover in hiding."

The mass of information took the boys a few minutes to fully process. Eragon eventually gave him a curious look. "If the Varden are so strong, why don't we just go there? You made it sound as though they were dangerous when you were talking with Jeod."

"They _are_ dangerous," Brom remarked. "Just because they all oppose the King does not mean they all support you two. There are many who believe that Alagaesia would be better off without Dragon Riders at all. At least here on the road I don't have to worry about someone slitting your throat in the middle of the night or trying to poison your food and drink. This is the lesser of two evils- at least until I'm satisfied that your first stage of training is complete."

Murtagh was thinking hard. "Hold on- what's this got to do with the elves?"

Brom let out another puff of smoke. "The elves are allies to the Varden- or at least, they were. The problem is that the guardian of the eggs was an elf, and now that they've been killed or captured, the elves are not feeling particularly trusting. It's likely that there was a traitor in the Varden who informed Galbatorix of the eggs' travel route and that's how he knew where to strike."

"Does that mean that they won't help us anymore?" Eragon asked with a sinking feeling.

"Not necessarily- that's where you two come in," Brom said. "The elves love dragons- almost revere them- for they were the ones who began the race of Dragon Riders. Now that you two have come along, they will fight back in full force. In fact, you two will complete your training as Riders with the elves one day, but that's not for a long time- perhaps years."

Eragon nodded slightly. Brom glanced from him to Murtagh and grunted. "Are we satisfied with questions for now, then?"

When nothing was said by either brother, the old man turned back to the road and continued smoking his pipe, leading the way towards Dras Leona.


	10. Dangerous Encounters

_Chapter 10: Dangerous Encounters_

They had just stopped for ten minutes when Eragon spotted the Urgal track.

He was at a creek just off the road, filling his waterskin up. Eragon took a sip of the cold water and sighed with satisfaction. As he stood up, a strange mark in the mud on the opposite bank caught his attention.

Frowning, Eragon tried to crane his head over the water, but couldn't get a good look. A moment later, he was reaching for a branch hanging precariously over the creek, trying to stretch his body as far across the water as he possibly could.

The branch snapped with a sharp sound and then he plummeted into the creek, slamming into the hard stones at the bottom of the creek with his right hand splayed out awkwardly. Pain blazed through his wrist and he heard a loud crack.

Saphira roared in his ears. _Eragon!_

He swore and grabbed his wrist, rolling in the shallow, freezing water. Eragon scrambled out of the creek and cursed in a long string before he could come up with a coherent response.

 _My wrist is broken,_ he gasped mentally.

 _What on earth were you doing?!_

Eragon blinked and then stared around for the mark he had seen. At the sight of it, he felt alarm and anger. He'd recognize that track anywhere.

 _I found an Urgal track,_ he told Saphira. Pain made it hard for him to communicate effectively. I _t's fresh…warn Brom and Murtagh. I don't know how many there are._

 _I'm coming to get you._

 _No!_ Eragon shot back. _The trees are..too thick for your wings…I can make it back…"_

 _Your opinion has been duly noted and immediately disregarded!_ Saphira's furious retort was followed by images of her ripping through the trees to reach him. Panic and anger made her frenzy.

Eragon knew that telling her off was pointless, so he just leaned against the high bank wall behind him, soaking wet and clutching his injured wrist. It was his sword arm, too. _Blast, I'm clumsy._

Saphira burst through the trees above him with force, making him yelp as branches went flying. She whipped her head down to stare at him and anger flashed in her intense blue eyes once she took in his current state.

 _You stupid boy!_

 _Yes, I'm fully aware,_ he winced. _Where's Brom and Murtagh?_

A hard smack to his head made Eragon yell indignantly. He looked straight up and saw Murtagh glowering above on the bank he was leaning against. Thorn had his head right beside his Rider and seemed a bit more concerned.

"What was that for?!"

"I leave you alone for ten minutes to get water- ten minutes! How on earth do you manage to do this?!"

"I found an Urgal track!"

"You broke your wrist looking at a bloody _track?!"_ Murtagh growled. "Damnation, Eragon-"

 _"_ _Silence!"_

Brom's roar made the two flinch. The old man looked furious. "We're putting a splint on Eragon's wrist and getting out of here. There's never just one Urgal. And thanks to all the bloody racket you just made, I'm sure they know where we are!"

He dragged Eragon out of the creek by his good hand and yanked the boy through the woods back to their temporary camp. Once they made it back, Brom grabbed some supplies from his bag and got to work. Eragon yelped as he set the splint. The old man was too angry to be gentle with his broken wrist.

Eragon got a gruff "buck up" for his protest.

Murtagh was on Thorn and flew off while Saphira stood guard for Eragon and Brom. He was going to see if he could spot the Urgals from the sky.

They mounted the horses and took off- Brom didn't specify where until Murtagh told them that the Urgals were closing in from the north. At that point, Brom steered their course of travel southeast and hoped to lose them upwind of the raiding party.

Murtagh kept tabs on the Urgal's progress. _Brom, they'll be upon the camp in seconds. Once they catch your scent-_

 _-we make for the river. It's shallow enough right now. We can wash our scent off there and destroy the trail. The horses can cross it. Tell Saphira to come get Eragon. He won't be able to cross with his wrist._

 _Very well._

Murtagh relayed Brom's orders and Saphira was there in a moment. Eragon only briefly stopped Cadoc to mount her and fly off, leaving Brom with the horses.

Eragon found the Urgals quickly and froze. They were surging through the woods, hot on Brom's trail. Even if the old man crossed the river now, they would see him before he reached the other bank.

 _Saphira, we have to do something!_

 _Like what? You're injured, you fool!_

 _Eragon, there's nothing you can do!_ Murtagh shouted in his mind. _What would you suggest? Land in front of them?!_

 _I don't know! Can't we bombard them with something?_

Something seemed to click in the dragons' minds as they flashed each other a glance.

Murtagh gave Thorn a suspicious look. _What are you plotting?_

 _There are many trees,_ Thorn replied innocently.

 _Yes, thank you for that utterly brilliant observation. Do you think you can drop a few on the Urgals?_

 _Of course we can! We're_ ** _dragons_** _,_ the red male said that as if it explained everything.

Murtagh rolled his eyes and grunted. _Well, don't just stand there. Let's go find a stick to hit the brutes with._

Thorn and Saphira both flew into the trees and grabbed a few well-weighted saplings. It was difficult to fly with them in their jaws, but the two dragons made do. They got above the Urgal's path of travel and waited until their pursuers were seconds away.

The first tree that fell was Thorn's. It landed smack-dab onto the first two Urgals and promptly knocked them out. Murtagh grinned at the harsh shouts of surprise.

 _Let's get a little more creative,_ Saphira told Eragon. Even injured, it wasn't hard for Eragon to do just that. The moment Saphira dropped her tree, he set it on fire with the ancient language. The spell drained his strength further and tired Eragon a lot, but the fiery ammunition took out three more Urgals and set their path ablaze.

When Saphira dropped her tree, Thorn rushed off to grab another and then the blue dragon did the same. They alternated like this a few times, dropping the trees in the Urgal's path and igniting them or just crushing the brutes with them. It was surprisingly effective. Eight Urgals were dispatched in this way, but that left twelve to continue pursuing Brom.

Murtagh cursed. _No other option- we have to fight them. Thorn, drop us right in front of them. We'll have to just cut them all down._

 _Murtagh, Eragon can't help you right now,_ Saphira argued. _It's too risky!_

 _Just keep your distance from them and keep him safe. Leave the fighting to Thorn and I!_

 _There's twelve of them left! You won't make it!_

 _We have to!_

Saphira didn't get to object further because Thorn flew down and hit the ground with a furious roar, blocking the Urgal's path. Murtagh leaped off his dragon and flashed Zar'roc out, slashing at the first Urgal he saw. Thorn too, rushed into the fray of stunned Urgals and rent one in half with a swipe of his massive talons. Blood exploded into the air.

Murtagh and Thorn dispatched four of them while the Urgals attempted to regroup, but the remaining eight fought back viciously. One of them locked blades with Murtagh, keeping him immobilized while another made to stab him.

"Jierda!" Eragon shouted. A moment later, the Urgal's neck snapped violently and it collapsed, dead. Black spots filled his vision and Eragon barely managed to stay conscious.

Saphira snarled at him mentally. _Enough! You're hurt too badly to fight! Don't you dare cast another spell, Eragon!_

His distraction had been enough though for Thorn to help Murtagh out. Once the Urgal that had locked blades with the older Rider had been slain, only five were left that hadn't fallen to the onslaught of Murtagh and Thorn. Two of them ran for Saphira while the remaining three made a suicidal rush at Murtagh.

An Urgal raised it's axe to kill Saphira, but she spun with a furious caterwaul. Her tail snapped out like a bullwhip and a second later the Urgal's head was flying through the air. It's bloodied trunk collapsed immediately. The remaining Urgal had a spear and jabbed at Eragon on her back. That was its worst and last mistake.

Murtagh actually flinched mid-fight as he saw Saphira's claws rip the Urgal into a bloody mess from top to bottom. The beast was gouged into several separate pieces, having invoked the wrath of the blue dragon by threatening her most precious treasure.

He was only able to stay distracted for a moment, however, because an Urgal cut at him with a sword. Murtagh was forced to parry and managed to kick the beast in the chest a moment later to push it away. The Urgal snarled, a guttural sound, but it was silenced by a sickening crutch.

Thorn reared up with the Urgal's body hanging from his jaws, limp after the dragon had snapped its spine. With a furious roar, the red dragon hurled the Urgal into the woods, snorting in satisfaction when it hit a thick tree and hit the ground at an awkward, decidedly dead angle.

Just one Urgal remained.

The beast grunted anxiously as Saphira and Thorn hissed viciously, clearly more than a little eager to rip it limb from limb. Murtagh brandished his sword in preparation to finish the job.

"Stop!"

Brom suddenly rode in. He looked downright furious, but seemed to have something in mind. "We keep this one alive."

"What!" Eragon exclaimed. "But-"

"-not a word from you!" Brom roared. He glared at the Urgal, who seemed to know that he was trapped. "I want to know a few things. Firstly, what is your purpose in hunting our party? Second, who are you working for?"

The Urgal bared his teeth and sneered. "We have been ordered to bring these two before our master! The one who rules over land and sea and sky! His name is one too good for the likes of you, old man!"

"I see," Brom frowned deeply. "You don't need to speak his name. I have guessed who it is you answer to. Why has he recruited you?"

When their hostage did not reply, Brom scowled. "Answer, or I might just change my mind about letting you live."

"I will not say," the Urgal spat.

The entire time Brom and the Urgal conversed, Thorn was slinking around the brute. His tail tip twitched restlessly- he wanted to finish off the last of their pursuers. The Urgal was warily trying to keep the dragons in his sights, but it was impossible to watch both Thorn and Saphira.

He didn't seem to know which was a bigger threat. Thorn was obviously shifting into a killing position, but Saphira looked by far more threatening. She was being ferociously protective of Eragon in his weakened state and had not stopped hissing.

And she looked incredibly anxious to rip the Urgal apart and ensure her Rider's safety.

Brom muttered something under his breath and the Urgal suddenly collapsed.

Murtagh stared in surprise. "Did you kill him?"

"Yes. We could hardly have left him here to tell anyone about our whereabouts," the old man replied. "I had to kill him."

"What did you say?"

"Not important right now," Brom grunted. He glanced at Eragon, who was only on his feet because he was leaning against Saphira's leg. The old man shook his head. "Eragon needs rest. As much as I hate to do this, we'll have to find a place to camp for the night. We could travel for a few more hours, but I don't want him falling off Saphira or Cadoc and hurting himself further."

"We could always strap him into the saddle," Murtagh suggested.

"We could, but I need to do a more thorough check on his wrist anyhow. Also, I'd like to ascertain that you three didn't receive any injuries either."

Murtagh shook his head. "I'm unharmed. Thorn?"

 _I received a scratch,_ the dragon admitted. _But it is not serious enough to hinder me._

"And you, Saphira?" Brom queried.

 _I slew two of the Urgals,_ she said. Her bloody claws flexed into the soil, gouging at it. _They didn't get the opportunity to hurt me or Eragon. I ripped them apart._

"Good," Brom sighed in relief. "Well, that makes my job a good bit easier. Let's find a place free of Urgal corpses and get bedded down for the night. Eragon-"

Eragon suddenly collapsed then, and Saphira just managed to stop his fall by slipping her head under his chest to catch him. The boy's eyes were closed and he was limp with exhaustion.

"Oh, great," Murtagh muttered.

* * *

Eragon was dreaming of the woman in the cell again.

He was standing in front of her, frozen as she simply hung by her wrists from the chains above them. Eragon tried to open his mouth, but no words came out. She suddenly twitched and his eyes focused on her. Her head came up just a little.

It was enough for their eyes to meet. Eragon found twin pools of the clearest, strongest emerald he had ever seen. Her eyes captivated him and he wondered briefly why they seemed so…unusual. Then she shivered and her head fell back down to her chest as she faded to unconsciousness. A moment later, he too, faded to black.

* * *

A throbbing headache was the first thing Eragon discovered when he awoke. He groaned and tried to lift his hand in order to rub his forehead, but it only caused pain to jolt through his arm. The pain snapped him out of his daze and he recalled all that had happened prior to him losing consciousness.

Before he could sit up in a panic, worrying for Saphira and the others, his dragon's voice came to him, clear and soothing.

 _Be calm, little one,_ Saphira murmured. _You have been asleep for a while. Rise slowly._

 _What happened?_ He asked, relaxing since she was at ease.

Saphira's head moved to hover over him as Eragon opened his eyes. She blinked at him. Y _ou fainted after the last Urgal was killed from your injury and exhaustion. It's been two days since then._

 _Two days?_ Eragon was startled. His body felt stiff, but he didn't think it was because he'd been asleep for that long. What had happened?

 _We've been camped here since then,_ Saphira told him. _Brom insisted we allow you to rest. Murtagh and Thorn didn't argue with him. I can tell they desperately wish to get on the road again, but your safety is my first concern right now._

Eragon slowly sat up and glanced around. They were in a small clearing surrounded by trees. He briefly wondered where Brom and Murtagh were until he found them talking beside a fire near Thorn. The red dragon was dozing lightly while his Rider and the old man conversed. A few meters away, the horses were tied to a tree and casually eating the grass which grew around it.

Saphira followed his gaze and looked back to him. _Are you strong enough to move again?_

 _I have to be._

"Brom?" Eragon called quietly.

Brom and Murtagh's heads jerked towards him and Thorn snorted himself awake. The two older men got up and headed his way. Saphira shifted so that she could place her head on his lap. Eragon scratched her scales gently.

"Awake at last," Brom grunted. "We've been debating whether you would wake at all after your near-fatal act of stupidity."

Eragon frowned. "I was trying to save Murtagh. That Urgal would have killed him if I didn't act."

"I'm fully aware, but neither of you should have engaged them in the first place," he scowled. "We could have lost them and stayed on the move if the two of you _idiots_ didn't try to engage _twenty Urgals_ when you were injured!"

For a moment, Eragon was about to protest, but he thought better of it. They had acted foolishly. It may have been to protect Brom, but all of them knew well that the old man was far from helpless. No doubt he'd had a plan before Eragon and Murtagh decided to take it upon themselves to attack the Urgals.

"I'm sorry," Eragon mumbled lowly. "We were only trying to protect you."

Brom's eyes softened only fractionally. "Your intention was good. But Eragon, you have to think before you act! What were you going to do with a broken wrist? Your sword arm! Did you plan on becoming ambidextrous in that brief moment, or intend on engaging the Urgals with magic? You certainly tried the latter and look what happened! You've been unconscious for two days, Eragon! Two days!"

Eragon was silent under Brom's scolding, knowing full well he deserved it. Brom eventually sighed when it was clear Eragon had learned from his mistake and ran a hand over his beard. "Well, I suppose it could've been worse given that the Urgals could very well have escaped. Since they're all dead, we can rest easy for a bit. And we've learned something important- the King has recruited the Urgals."

"What!" Eragon exclaimed.

Murtagh nodded gravely. "This master they mentioned- the one who "rules land and sea and sky" could only be the King, or so Brom thinks. There certainly isn't any other monarch who would take the Urgals in willingly that we know of."

"It makes sense," Brom admitted. "Galbatorix has been known to recruit unsavory allies- the Ra'zac for one. But more importantly, when I checked the Urgal's possessions, I found parchment detailing their orders to rendezvous with a chieftain within the next month. Apparently, the King truly is the one behind the massing of Urgals in the south."

"But why?" Eragon asked. "Is he planning to attack Surda?"

"No, not Surda. He's going for the Varden. Galbatorix probably hopes that the army of Urgals will wipe out his only legitimate threat and the Urgals themselves all at once. It would be terrible convenient for him."

Eragon ran the possibility through his head and a hard look became fixed on his face. "Those Urgals attacked his own villages and he recruited them? The same beasts who slaughtered those people at Yazuac?"

Brom sighed. "Eragon, you know full well the King does not care about villages. He cares only for his own position as King of the Empire. If massing the Urgals under his command is what he wants to assure his position as monarch, then he will do it. That man will do anything in order to rule Alagaesia."

The grim knowledge ran through their heads for a while until Murtagh crossed his arms.

"So now what?"

"Now we keep moving for Dras Leona," Brom answered. "We will do our best to slay the Ra'zac, and whether we succeed or fail, if we make it out alive we will go straight to the Varden. That's the only place where you'll be even remotely safe if you manage to kill them. Also, from now on, I'm going to drill into the both of you mental exercises as well as continuing swordplay. I'll be damned if I let you two fools get us into another potentially fatal situation like this. Understood?"

Knowing better than to argue with the stubborn and considerably dangerous old man, both brother nodded agreement. Their dragons simply watched, bemused and silent.

* * *

The next few weeks passed for the brothers under Brom's rigorous training. During that time, winter gave way to spring as the land began to turn green with life, banishing the cold and white away for another year. Birdsong filled the air and warmth arrived on the wind.

Eragon was forced to duel with his left hand due to his splint and Brom decided Murtagh should try it as well. As a result, both of them became skilled at fighting with both hands, though Eragon slightly more so since Murtagh preferred to switch back to his right whenever they sparred.

They rode along the edge of the Spine near the Toark River, heading southeast towards Leona Lake. It didn't take them long to reach the massive body of water while they were busy training. Brom kept them busy always, whether it was on the road practice of magic and battle scenarios or sparring practice at camp. Time passed in a blur for Eragon and Murtagh.

* * *

One evening, when the three of them were sparring by the campfire again, there was a shift in the balance of power.

After blocking the edges of their blades, Eragon, Murtagh, and Brom faced off against each other. By now, Brom had ordered them to fight as individuals instead of as a team simply because he was unable to keep up with both brothers at once. So their sparring sessions consisted of a three-way free-for-all.

As usual, once they were ready, the three men faced each other in silence, judging each other's positions and analyzing the area around them for weaknesses they could exploit.

Eragon grabbed a stick and hurled it at Brom, but his splint got in the way and the old man easily avoided the makeshift attack. Murtagh lunged at Eragon and made a swing for his head. The younger brother ducked under Zar'roc and then rammed his shoulder into Murtagh, sending him reeling away. In that second, Brom rushed in and tried to disarm Eragon, but he managed to parry just in time and leapt away as Murtagh came back in for another attack, crashing his blade against Brom's.

The three blades collided in a flurry of steel, blow after blow raining down upon each of the swordsmen relentlessly. Their faces were locked in place, concentrating fiercely. No one was gaining the upper hand. Eragon was the smallest and fastest, evading any blow with exceptional speed. Murtagh had the greatest raw strength, hammering ferocious blows upon his opponents until their arms jarred. Brom possessed the highest degree of skill, putting his decades of experience to use so the boys were frustrated with their every attempt to disarm him.

But then the battle shifted. Suddenly, Brom was getting tired. Eragon was the first to feel the change in his blows and immediately reacted to it. He jammed his shoulder into Murtagh's chest and shoved him away, then lunged at Brom and slashed an intricate pattern of steel in the most complex move he'd ever attempted. With a burst of speed, his blade collided with Brom's guard and smashed the sword out of his hand. Eragon flicked Undbitr up to Brom's throat before the old man could react. Murtagh stared in surprise.

Brom's eyes flashed with pride, but he shouted. "Don't stop because I'm out, you two can still fight!"

His words galvanized them into action. Eragon whipped around and slashed just as Murtagh attacked, bringing their blades together with a loud clang. Both of them struck at each other with sudden energy, exhilarated that Brom had been defeated first. It was a milestone that would not be overlooked.

The brothers slashed and parried for nearly an hour longer until sweat poured from their bodies and their arms burned from the weight of the swords. Brom would occasionally bark a comment here and there, giving them tips about their form and technique. Eragon and Murtagh finally staggered back and took a breather, gasping for air.

Brom surprised them by stepping in. "That's enough for tonight."

Murtagh blinked. "But we haven't disarmed each other."

"There's no trick either of you can use to defeat the other now," Brom said. "It would simply come down to stamina. Both of you are masters of the sword. Of all the people I have fought, only three of them could have defeated me like that, and I doubt any could do it with their left hand."

Eragon swelled with pride at the compliment.

"I've taught you both all I can. You've been able to counter move after move and still fight on. At present, you're amongst the most rare and talented swordsmen that exist in the race of men. However, remember this; if you ever have the misfortune to fight an elf to the death, trained or not, male or female- expect to lose. They, along with dragons and other creatures of magic, are many times stronger than nature intended. Even the weakest elf would overpower you. That goes for the Ra'zac, too. Never try to engage them in a contest of physical strength, for you will lose."

"Is there any way we can become equal in strength to them?" Eragon asked, still a little breathless.

"A few, but none are available to you now," Brom admitted. "The simplest would be to let you age, but that would take decades- centuries, even. As human Riders aged and grew old, it was common for their bodies to become more elf-like. Their ears became pointed and their eyes slanted slightly. Of course, their magic and physical strength grew as well, but like I said- that would take more time than you have available to you. Magic enhancement would be another way, but it's incredibly draining and simply attempting it with your current skill in magic could exhaust you entirely or even kill you."

"For now, the best way to take on enemies like that is to have Saphira and Thorn assist you. You must meld your strength with theirs and use that to overwhelm any supernatural foe you encounter."

"You mean the same way we would if we were fighting an opponent with magic?" Asked Murtagh.

"Yes," the old man nodded approvingly. "Much in the same way you would engage a foe with magic. However, there is a difference- when fighting an average human magician, simply melding your minds together with the dragons' to crush their defenses would suffice. Against an enemy like an elf, you must combine both your minds and your strength. Without the dragons, you _will_ be defeated."

The boys nodded and Brom smiled as he took in their exhausted forms. "Alright, you two go get cleaned up. If I have to sleep with your stench hanging in the air, I might be tempted to skip dinner tonight."

Without complaint, the brothers sheathed their swords and walked towards the lake together, intent on getting a good bath while Brom cooked.

Neither of them had stopped grinning at their victory.

* * *

The next morning, they stopped the horses and stared at their destination with cautious eyes.

They had arrived at Dras Leona.


	11. The Enemy of my Enemy

_Chapter 11: The Enemy of my Enemy_

Eragon didn't need Brom or Murtagh to tell him how royally screwed they were. Not that they were in any position to tell him anything at the moment.

Oh, getting into Dras Leona hadn't been hard. They'd stopped at an average inn, wandered around like average travelers to ask about Seithr Oil as casually as possible, and had average success. A warehouse had been discovered that stored the oil they sought, which would hopefully lead them to the Ra'zac so the three of them could assassinate the fiends.

The first problem arose when the Ra'zac just so happened to find them first.

The second problem was that it didn't appear to be random chance because they were evidently prepared for the Riders that showed up in the cathedral at the city center. Eragon and Murtagh had fled the Ra'zac and soldiers of the Empire, firing arrows and mentally sending warnings to their dragons and Brom. By the time they'd reached the inn, mounted their horses, and fled for the gates, Dras Leona was locking down.

It was only with a tremendous amount of effort on the part of Eragon and Murtagh that they managed to hold the gate up with magic before fleeing outside of the city. They hadn't stopped riding until nightfall, at which point they reunited with their dragons and settled into a wary calm. There was no question that they'd be riding like hell first thing in the morning, but the horses were dead tired.

They'd set up camp in a small, concealed clearing. Brom only allowed a fire for as long as they made dinner, but before they'd finished cooking, Eragon had caught sight of something at the edge of his vision. He'd thought it might have been a bird or a bat. That was the last thing he'd thought before _something_ smashed into the back of his head and knocked him out.

He woke up sometime later, head swimming and in pain, to the situation that he was now presented with.

Eragon was slumped in the dirt, hands bound behind his back, beside an unconscious Murtagh and a dazed Brom. As he slowly looked around, he saw that Saphira and Thorn were pinned beneath two enormous, winged beasts with seven-foot long beaks.

That jolted him into a higher state of awareness. A pair of black boots suddenly stepped close to him and he looked up, feeling cold rush down his spine as his eyes found the dark cowl of a Ra'zac. The presence of the creature he so despised could only mean that the beasts holding Saphira and Thorn captive were the Lethrblaka. The bat-like monsters were nearly twice the size of the dragons they pinned.

Eragon glimpsed more movement to his side and realized with a shock of horror that there were three more Ra'zac sitting by the fire. There were four of them total, plus their steeds. Gods above, he'd thought there were only two of them!

"Troublesome little Ridersss," the one closest to him hissed. "It wasss very foolish of you to chase usss so far. You will ssserve our Master once you learn respect."

"I won't serve you," he growled, wincing at the pain in his head. "I'm going to kill you."

The Ra'zac merely laughed, crouching to grasp Eragon by the collar and lift him up with inhuman strength. It was holding him up in the air with just one hand. No natural creature could possibly possess such strength.

"Your fate isss already sealed," the Ra'zac declared. "The Forsworn will be here sssoon to collect you."

Eragon felt his blood go cold. Was the Ra'zac talking about Morzan? How could the King's deadliest servant already know about their presence here? It hadn't even been a day!

"And as for thisss one…" The shortest of the Ra'zac, one of the three that had previously been sitting by the fire, approached Brom with an angry hiss. "We have no need for him."

"Our ordersss were to keep them alive," the Ra'zac holding Eragon interjected.

"We could sssay he was killed when we captured them."

"Our Master's ordersss are absolute," the first Ra'zac snapped.

The shorter one hissed at its brethren. "I want to kill him."

"Desist," was the angry retort. "Or you ssshall regret it."

The pair of Ra'zac glared at each other in silence for several moments. Their companions just watched them uncaringly, while the Lethrblaka snarled at Saphira and Thorn as the comparatively small dragons struggled to free themselves. Eragon was thinking desperately to come up with some kind of plan, but Brom was too weak to attack with him and Murtagh was still out of it. Saphira and Thorn were pinned by beasts twice their size with no chance of escaping.

They were trapped. Well and truly damned.

So it was a shock when he heard a dull twang and then saw an enormous arrow punch through the smallest Ra'zac's leg.

The creature released a bloodcurdling shriek and dropped to the ground, clutching at its ruined limb. Its three brethren and the Lethrblaka were immediately alerted, eyes glaring into the darkness to catch sight of whatever had wounded their ally. Eragon was released and fell into the dirt again as the Ra'zac nearest him unsheathed its sword, clicking aggressively.

It barely dove away as three more arrows were fired in rapid succession. The shafts were ridiculously large with broad-heads as large as Eragon's fists. It was the kind of arrow that would fell even a bear in one shot if accurately aimed.

A second shriek was heard as another Ra'zac was shot in the shoulder, but the wound looked to be more shallow than the shot that maimed its ally. The foul creatures were retreating towards the shadows to hunt down whoever was attacking them when a spear nearly ten feet long was thrown from the dark and pierced one of the Lethrblaka in its left leg.

Eragon felt like he was going to go deaf when the wounded monster let out a scream that could shatter glass. It limped off of Saphira, releasing an echoing cry that summoned its allies. The Ra'zac tried to get to Eragon and the others again, but were stopped by a hail of arrows. They hissed, retreating towards their steeds to escape. But the smallest Ra'zac shrieked in rage and lunged at Eragon, wielding a knife in a last-ditch attempt to get revenge for its wounds.

There was a low whistle and then a heavy smacking sound before the Ra'zac in question was lifted off its feet and hurled into the ground. Eragon stared in shock at the spear that had punched clean through the fiend's torso and killed it instantly.

That was the last straw for the Ra'zac and Lethrblaka. They quickly mounted their steeds and flew off, the wounded Lethrblaka still shrieking in pain from its speared leg.

Saphira and Thorn approached the fallen trio shakily and Eragon realized that Thorn was limping. The Letherblaka hadn't been gentle with them.

 _Little one!_ Saphira's voice cried out to him. _Are you okay?_

 _I think so,_ he responded, wincing at the pain in his head. _My head hurts, but I think I'll live. What about Brom and Murtagh?_

 _They'll survive,_ she told him, reaching her Rider to sniff the ropes that bound him. Her gaze trailed to the impaled Ra'zac and then leered into the shadows of the forest where it had come from. Her lip curled up aggressively, tail thrashing. _We are being watched._

 _If they wanted us dead, we'd be dead,_ he replied. Eragon forced himself to his knees with another wince. _Don't make any sudden moves. If they could kill one of the Ra'zac and injure a Lethrblaka like that, they could kill us even more easily._

 _Caution is not your usual forte,_ she noted as her eyes scanned the forest's edge.

 _Well, have you ever met anyone capable of what we just saw? Even I'm not reckless enough to mess around with someone like that._

 _It's good to know that even your recklessness has limits,_ she remarked. Saphira carefully moved one of her claws to cut through the ropes binding his hands.

 _Thanks,_ he said dryly. Eragon removed what was left of the binding and rubbed his sore wrists.

Thorn was in the process of freeing Brom when the bushes farthest from them rustled heavily, like something large was moving through them. The dragons were instantly on alert and Eragon warily stalked over to his bags by the fire, removing Undbitr from its sheathe. He grabbed Zar'roc as well and tossed it to Brom once the old man got his bearings.

Whoever was coming had saved their lives, but were they a friend or just another enemy?

Eragon and Brom stood side by side, waiting with Saphira on Eragon's right flank while Thorn stood guard over Murtagh. The red dragon, though injured himself, had his fangs bared in a feral snarl that dared any living thing to get too close.

The brush rustled once more and then a massive figure appeared between a pair of small trees. It had its hands held up in surrender and came out slowly, trying its best to look as non-threatening as possible. Eragon was still trying to grasp how ridiculously tall it was- it had to be eight feet at least and the horns atop its head were huge…

He froze as the realization came to him that he was staring at an Urgal- and the biggest one he'd ever seen by far.

Urgals were bulky and muscular naturally, but even the ones they'd encountered at Yazuac had nothing on this beast. For the love of all things good, it was practically a bipedal bear with horns and a bow that doubled Eragon in height and then some. He couldn't even begin to imagine the strength it would take to pull that thing back to full extension, but the arms on this Urgal were nearly as thick as a horse's neck.

The Urgal had long hair as black as night in thick dreadlocks that went down to his ridiculously broad shoulders. Burning yellow eyes gleamed with a disturbing intelligence Eragon had not seen in the brutes at Yazuac. His curved horns were enormous and the same color as his hair, thick and sharp at the tips. The Urgal wore nothing to cover his powerful torso, but he bore simple leather pants and a sash over his right shoulder that held a battle-axe as big as Eragon at the ram's back. A pair of huge, dark fur boots covered his feet and he hefted a large bag over one shoulder.

Eragon wasn't sure what he'd expected, but an Urgal as tall and probably as strong as Saphira wasn't what first came to mind.

The Urgal stopped at the edge of the clearing, hands still held up as they stared at the beast warily. Even Brom seemed to be at a loss for words. When Eragon and Brom showed no signs of aggression, the Urgal silently walked towards the fire, threw down his bag, and moved to the slain Ra'zac.

It spat on the fallen fiend, muttered something in a guttural tongue, then placed one huge boot on the Ra'zac's neck and yanked his spear free from its corpse.

Brom glanced at Eragon and shook his head, sheathing Zar'roc. Eragon took that as a sign to sheathe Undbitr as well, but he kept his hand on the sword's handle. Just because this Urgal had decided to target the Ra'zac didn't make him an ally. And frankly, Eragon wasn't sure if they could defeat the enormous Urgal. He was the pinnacle of his race and strong enough to literally drive off the Ra'zac and Lethrblaka single-handedly.

The Urgal retrieved the arrows that were embedded in the ground from his shots at the fleeing Ra'zac and then returned to the fire, where he sat down and stared at the humans and dragons across from him.

"So you're the Riders."

Eragon almost fell over when he realized that the Urgal had just spoken in the common tongue. Mind you, it was guttural and accented thickly, but it was clearly his language.

Brom raised an eyebrow. "And you are…?"

"Garzhvog I am called," the Urgal grunted. He raised his chin in a challenging motion. "You were lucky I was wandering near. The Ra'zac are not common assassins."

"Then why take the risk?" Demanded the old man.

"You seek to kill the King in Uru'baen, do you not?"

Brom stilled. "What if we do?"

"If you do, then we share common ground."

Eragon narrowed his eyes at the hulking Urgal, who somehow was nearly as tall as himself despite sitting down. "I thought the Urgals were marching south towards the Varden. What are you doing out here on your own?"

The Urgal almost seemed amused by his testy tone. "I seek vengeance."

"On whom?"

"The King."

That caught Eragon off-guard. "What for?"

"For enslaving my people," Garzhvog growled. He sounded like a bear when he did that. "Some moons ago, he sent his servant, Durza, to my tribe. The Shade convinced my people to fight on the King's behalf with his mind trickery. I resisted, but I was cast out and left for dead. I have wandered since then, seeking a way to free my tribe from Galbatorix's foul hands. But I was just one ram against an army."

"I heard rumors of Dragon Riders making their way to the south," he went on. "Riders that might not serve the King. I decided to seek you out, to see if I could not persuade you to help me."

Brom frowned. "We aren't in any position to kill the King yet. What you ask is not possible right now."

The Urgal made a ruk-ruk sound that Eragon interpreted as laughter. "I expect not. These Riders are too young to even be fully grown."

Eragon reddened upon the realization that the Urgal was mocking him, but the beast didn't pause to let him get a word in. "I know I must be patient- that is the mark of a hunter stalking his prey. I know you cannot kill the King as you are now. I propose an alliance."

The old man's eyebrows rose up into his hair. "You wish to fight with us?"

"My people are enslaved by a man with a snake's tongue," Garzhvog snarled, gripping his still-bloody spear in one hand with enough force to crack the bones of a man. "I will fight with demons if I must to free them."

"Surely you don't think we could trust you," Eragon suggested, eyes narrowed. "All the encounters we've had with Urgals so far have been as enemies. We killed two Urgals in Yazuac for slaughtering the village."

"Slaughter is not my people's way," Garzhvog growled warningly. His nostrils flared. "We are a war-loving people, but war is pointless without meaning. We fight for our lives, for land, and for food. What the Urgralgra are doing now is not our way. They are being manipulated."

"But what about-" Eragon began hotly.

Brom held an arm up to stop what the boy was saying. "Enough, Eragon. He's being sincere."

His jaw dropped. "You can't be serious about accepting his help!"

"If you took even a moment to try reading his thoughts, you'd have gathered that he means it," Brom growled at the boy. "He let his mental shields down, which I might add are fairly powerful from what I can tell. He did not need to let me in. If you're so sure he means us harm, then I suggest you think before you speak and give it a try."

Eragon shut his mouth, but still glared at Garzhvog. The Urgal merely snorted indifferently. He didn't care if Eragon trusted him so long as he could get close enough to the King to run a spear through him.

 _You're being foolish,_ Saphira admonished him.

 _He's an Urgal!_ Eragon retorted. _How am I the one in the wrong here?_

 _Judging him for being an Urgal is like judging me for being a dragon. If I burned and razed and killed like a monster, would you feel so inclined to trust me? Do not forget that Shruikan certainly kills for his own twisted satisfaction._

 _That's different,_ he protested. _You're none of those things and you're nothing like Shruikan._

 _So why shouldn't he be the same? He has not given us reason to distrust him. In fact, if it weren't for him, we'd be in the King's clutches by sunrise. If you haven't noticed, he ran them off single-handedly. I quite think having an ally like him with us will improve our chances of making it to the Varden alive._

Eragon grit his teeth. _He's an Urgal._

 _Yes, he is an Urgal, I am a dragon, grass is green, and you are a fool. All is right in the world._

What annoyed the hell out of him was that she was right and he knew it. He just wouldn't say it. He didn't trust Garzhvog any farther than he could throw the ridiculously huge Urgal, but he would reluctantly admit that the Urgal was also a ferocious warrior and had saved their lives. Denying him the option to travel and fight with them would be like refusing a living siege weapon.

 _Fine, but I still don't trust him,_ he snapped at his other half.

 _You'll get over it,_ she waved off casually. Saphira shifted around Eragon to study the massive Urgal with curious eyes. _If that's all you'd like to say, then hush and tend to your wounds. I haven't gotten the chance to observe an Urgal without having to rip it into pieces._

Eragon grumbled and snatched his bag, retreating towards the still unconscious Murtagh so he could treat both his own wounds and the wounds of his brother. Meanwhile, Brom relaxed his grasp on Zar'roc and approached Garzhvog, though he maintained a respectable distance while he spoke with the Urgal. Saphira moved closer as well to study him, and the Urgal acquiesced to the scan with little more than a wary glance. It was clear he knew a dangerous animal when he saw one, but Saphira wouldn't attack unless he gave her reason to.

No, she was content to study the behemoth Urgal while her Rider tended to his wounds.

They didn't make themselves comfortable for long. There was every chance the Ra'zac would return with soldiers behind them before dawn broke.

* * *

"How on earth does he do it?" Murtagh wondered out loud. They'd just made camp for the night, wary despite not finding a sign of the Ra'zac since three days prior when they escaped. Murtagh hadn't been overly pleased by waking to the news that Garzhvog would be traveling with them, but he took it a bit better than Eragon did.

Eragon didn't look at his brother as he strung his bow as he did every day to keep it in good condition. "How does who do what?"

"How does Garzhvog keep up with the horses?"

He paused and glanced at the Urgal, who was sharpening the ridiculously huge axe he carried. Eragon was also having trouble figuring out how Garzhvog did that- his stamina was absurd. He kept up with fully grown horses with some supernatural strength the likes of which the boy had never seen before.

"He's a Kull."

The brothers looked behind them to where Brom was tying up the horses. Without looking at them, the old man elaborated. "Kull are the elite of all Urgals. Not a single one is shorter than eight feet tall and although they aren't as quick as elves, they possess raw strength and stamina equal to them. Consider yourselves lucky that the Urgals we encountered before were not Kull, or we would not likely be here."

Eragon frowned. "How could the elves be as strong as Kull if they're only equal in stature to humans?"

"You're forgetting magic again, Eragon," Brom chastised. "Magic runs in the blood of elves thicker than any other race. Their immense strength, stamina, and immortality all stem from the magic that runs in their veins. Humans have no such bond to magic and as such, we will never be as powerful as they are. The only reason you could ever hope to compete with them is because of your bond with Saphira, and even now you would have no chance of defeating an elf."

Murtagh glanced at Garzhvog again and nodded in his direction. "What are our odds of defeating him?"

Brom looked from the Urgal to the boys and smirked. "An interesting question."

The man approached Garzhvog and after getting his attention, muttered something to him quietly. Somehow, Eragon got the feeling that he wasn't asking the Urgal to help with gathering wood for a fire. Maybe it was the unnecessarily large grin that appeared on Garzhvog's face a moment later and the eager nod.

Brom turned to the boys with a cheery look on his face. "Seeing as I am no longer able to compete with you two in combat, I've asked Garzhvog to take my place. He has graciously agreed to teach you what fighting a Kull is like."

The two brothers watched Garzhvog warily as the massive Urgal stood up after removing the battle-axe from his back. Knowing that they were in for the fight of their lives, they unsheathed their own blades and guarded them with magic. Brom did the same for Garzhvog's axe after a question and a curious scan of the spell. The Urgal felt the edge of his weapon, now blunted with magic, and grunted his satisfaction.

Brom nodded in satisfaction. "Well, I must go and collect the wood. Don't die or break your limbs. We don't have time for injuries caused by foolishness."

With that, the old man strode into the surrounding woods to complete his task, leaving Eragon and Murtagh to confront Garzhvog on their own. They weren't sure how to approach this- Brom had hammered into them how to take on men, but he'd rarely taught them how to deal with Urgals. Those lessons had mostly been verbal since they didn't have a direct example and Brom had never told them how to fight a Kull.

Well, Brom had also told them that practice was the most effective lesson, so this was the next best thing.

Garzhvog tilted his head to one side until the bones popped. He grinned at them, uttering in his guttural tone. "The rules?"

"No aiming to kill," Murtagh began to recite the same rules Brom made for them in every spar. "These blades can't cut, but if we hit hard enough, they can still break bones. Avoid aiming for the neck or head. But aside from that, pretty much anything is fair game. We're used to beating each other pretty well in these spars."

"Good. It's been far too long since I had a chance to fight some decent opponents. Well, come on then."

Eragon began to flank right as Murtagh slowly approached the Urgal, who watched them with eyes as keen as a hawk's. The clearing had gone quiet, and even the dragons had opted to observe the bout with interest. Tornac nickered.

The brothers were wary of Garzhvog- for one, they'd never battled a Kull before, but he was also unorthodox compared to their limited experience fighting Urgals. He did not charge in immediately roaring bloody murder. He was a cautious opponent like Brom- observing their every move in calm silence. He held his battle-axe in one hand with deceptive ease. Eragon frowned. Garzhvog was behaving less like what he understood Urgals to be and more like an experienced human warrior.

He feinted a charge and quickly stepped back. Garzhvog's eyes barely lingered on him for more than a split second longer, but it was enough for Murtagh to lunge forward, Zar'roc swinging from the left in a sweeping motion. The Urgal was aware of the threat though and lifted his axe, catching the swing against the flat of his weapon with barely any effort. Eragon darted in then and the spar really began.

Garzhvog shoved Murtagh away with a forceful push of his axe, sending the teen sprawling while Eragon took over. He dove under the Urgal's grasping left hand and got behind him, swinging Undbitr at his back, but he jumped when Garzhvog's axe came down over the Urgal's shoulder as if he intended to return the weapon to his back. The result was that Undbitr smashed against the axe and was repelled from Garzhvog's open back, forcing Eragon to retreat as the Urgal spun around with incredible speed, fist swinging.

Eragon retreated several paces to get clear of Garzhvog's attack range. He couldn't believe how fast the Urgal could wield such a massive weapon- Brom had said that Kull weren't as fast as elves, but he still had unbelievable speed that such a large and bulky creature had no right to possess.

Murtagh tried to take advantage of Garzhvog's back to him this time and aimed for the back of his shins, but Garzhvog kept spinning and swung his axe in a sideways stroke. Murtagh was forced to bring Zar'roc up to guard and the resulting impact of Garzhvog's axe colliding with the Rider's blade sent him flying in the opposite direction. Murtagh hit the ground with a yell and rolled for several more feet, stunned from the force.

Garzhvog felt Undbitr jab him in the back as Eragon stabbed forward, managing to score what he felt would have been a fatal blow in a real battle. But he did not anticipate Garzhvog reaching over his shoulder to grab the sword and wrench him forward. Now in the Urgal's range, Garzhvog let the axe drop as he grabbed at Eragon. He snagged the teenager by the throat with his massive hands and knelt so he could slam Eragon into the ground just hard enough to jar his whole body.

Eragon took a moment to come back to his senses, stunned by the ridiculous physical strength Garzhvog possessed. The Urgal leered down at him, yellow eyes fierce. "That was a foolish attack. You would never have killed me by stabbing me there- the bone of a Kull's shoulder is too thick for a man to pierce."

He let Eragon go and rose back up onto his feet, eyeing Murtagh as the teen rose shakily from the dirt. Recovering from Garzhvog's blows wasn't easy; every hit felt like it was dealt by a battering ram.

Saphira and Thorn had both watched the bout with interest, but it was only now that the dragons spoke. Their thoughts were broadcast to the brothers as they recovered from the heavy blows Garzhvog had landed.

 _You cannot try to overpower him as you do with Brom and each other,_ Saphira warned. _He is nearly three times your size and far heavier than either of you. From the start, your strategy was stupid- if you could even call that a strategy._

 _Thanks,_ Eragon replied sarcastically. _I realize that now._

 _Yes, now that you've been beaten into the ground after a single attack. Honestly, what were you thinking, charging in like that? If you were to do that in a real fight against an enemy Kull, you'd get killed!_

 _If we don't get close, we'll never beat him!_

 _Of course not, but don't be stupid about it. Think, Eragon! What keeps Garzhvog going? What lets him strike with such force?_

Eragon studied the Urgal from the ground as he propped himself onto his elbows with a wince. His body was still sore from the heavy slam he'd been dealt, but he managed to focus on the Kull. _His legs help him to twist quickly, but he's careful to guard them with his axe. I'd target his arms to slow down his swings, but they're too thick and strong for me to hurt with Undbitr. Maybe…his wrist?_

 _Try it,_ she urged. _Garzhvog's limbs are stronger and thicker than a man's, but that means that joints like his wrists, knees, and ankles will weaken faster because of his weight. Try targeting those- they're pinpoint targets, but if you can hit them successfully that could provide you with an opening to finish the spar._

He nodded and stood up, brandishing Undbitr as he recovered his breath. Murtagh took his place back by Eragon's side, watching Garzhvog with a slight frown. The elder of the two called to their opponent. "In a real fight, grabbing one of our swords like that would've torn your hand."

The Kull let his axe lean casually on his broad shoulders, watching the brothers with narrowed eyes as he replied. "In a real fight, a Kull would not care and nor shall I. My people thrive on battle- a ram's pride is in the scars he bears, for they are a sign of the many battles he was fought and won. A little cut on my hand would mean nothing if I slew my foe. Would it stop you?"

"I suppose not," Eragon answered. "Although our skin isn't as thick as yours is."

"A fair point," Garzhvog lifted his axe off his shoulders and held it at his side. "But enough of this. We are not done. Try to last longer against me this time, little Riders."

The taunt was well-deserved and Eragon would be lying if it didn't annoy him a little, but he stayed focused on what Saphira had advised him and began to flank Garzhvog once more as Murtagh shifted in the opposite direction to catch the Urgal in a pincer movement. Garzhvog glanced from one side to the other, eyeing them just as he had before.

With a mental cue from Murtagh, they both lunged at the Kull simultaneously.

* * *

Some time later, Eragon sat by the campfire with his head pounding and his body aching all over. It had become clear in their spar that Garzhvog was not a gentle opponent- he beat Eragon and Murtagh black and blue before the fighting ended. Towards the end, Brom came back with wood and couldn't suppress the large grin on his face at the sight of the brothers getting their asses handed to them.

Eragon suspected that the old man got some twisted kick out of their ordeal.

They'd improved while fighting Garzhvog and learned to evade his attacks, as well as avoid direct collisions, but the problem came when it was time to land an attack of their own- with almost every blow they landed, Garzhvog ensured that he landed one on them simultaneously. In every such exchange, the result was that one of the brothers ended up on the ground.

Eragon had struck Garzhvog behind the knee once and got the butt of the Kull's axe rammed into his gut for the trouble. He'd had the wind knocked out of him and couldn't stop himself from vomiting into the nearby bushes. Brom had roared with laughter after that particular exchange and Eragon would've probably attacked the old man had he not been heaving his guts up. As it was, that turned out to be their last spar for the night.

Garzhvog seemed more amused by the mismatched fights than anything, but he made points for them to follow later when they weren't getting pulverized. While the boys recovered, he went hunting and came back with a sizable buck that he subsequently skinned and quartered with a large hunting knife. They ate venison stew that night around the fire while Garzhvog told Eragon and Murtagh everything they did wrong fighting him.

"You're too predictable," the Urgal grunted. "Humans all do the same thing- they get on our flanks and attack from two or more sides. The Urgralgra learned how to work around that long ago. One of our long spears or axes will have one of you beheaded before you can get close enough to kill. Be unpredictable. Force me to track one of you to make sure the other is given an opportunity to distract me."

Eragon raised an eyebrow. "Distract? Isn't that what the first person would be doing?"

 _Too predictable,_ Saphira said in his mind with some amusement.

"I'd expect that," Garzhvog replied with a deep chuckle. "Which is why the second attacker must also attempt to distract me. If I cannot determine where the real blow will come from, I'll be less capable of defending against it when it comes. The worst thing you can do in a battle against a Kull is rush things. If you are too hasty, all we have to do is get our hands on you and that's it."

Murtagh chewed his lip thoughtfully at his words. "You've thought about this for a long time, haven't you?"

The Kull nodded. "I was once the greatest ram of my tribe. Thirty-and-six winters have I endured and many more battles and hunts than that. I have had much time to contemplate and improve my skill in combat."

Brom whistled lowly, impressed. "Not many Urgal rams live long enough to reach their thirties. The constant fighting keeps your numbers down and weeds out any weakness. Were you a Chieftain?"

"Aye," Garzhvog replied, reaching for the huge longbow to string it. "Once I was. Before Durza ousted me from my rightful place. I will have it returned to me one day, after I kill the snake-tongued demon."

Eragon stared at the bow in the Urgals hands. "Are all Urgal bows so large?"

Garzhvog shook his head. "No, they are not. This kind of bow is made solely for war. Our hunting bows are smaller and more compact. With the right arrows, these are strong enough to punch through the steel armor of men. It's overkill for the game in this place, but it will do."

Eragon glanced at his own comparatively small hunting bow and deflated a little. The weapon was only good for game- if he went up against soldiers, he'd have no chance of piercing their armor. He'd have to aim for the face or neck, neither of which were easy targets especially if their helm's visor was down.

He was forced to acknowledge that in terms of effectiveness, Garzhvog's weapon was superior. If ever they needed to fight at range, the Urgal would be the only one of them in any position to do so with any chance of killing an enemy. Swallowing his pride, Eragon asked something he'd never thought he would ask of an Urgal. "Could you teach me how to make one?"

Garzhvog paused stringing his bow and looked up at the teen, yellow eyes flaring with surprise. Eragon reached to his side to pick up his hunting bow and showed it to the Urgal. "The one I made is only any good for hunting. It can't pierce armor."

The Urgal considered him for several moments and Eragon shifted uncomfortably, practically able to see the gears whirling in Garzhvog's head. After an extended silence, the Kull smirked rather bestially. "Aye."


	12. Gil'ead

_Chapter 12: Gil'ead_

Eragon was dreaming again.

He found himself standing in the dungeon he'd seen before and began to look around. As before, he saw a small cot in the corner and laying upon it was the same, young woman. Her dark hair was strewn over one side of her face so that he could not really see her, but Eragon felt the same as he always did when he looked at her; that she was precious and important, even if he did not know who she was or if she even existed.

He dared not reach out to attempt to touch her, for he recalled, briefly, that doing so made him wake up. Instead, he just studied her and tried to memorize as much of her as he could. She was rather average in height, though it was hard to tell with her lying down. Her hair was black as night and long, ending just above the small of her back, and her skin was an unhealthy, pale sheen. She seemed to be sweating, but whether from heat or pain, he could not tell. Eragon frowned at the sight of dark liquid dripping from the fingernails of her left hand. He knew it had to be blood.

His head was just beginning to turn when she lifted her head just slightly and her hair fell away enough for their eyes to meet. Dark brown locked with a brilliant, emerald green, the likes of which would put the most gorgeous of gemstones to shame. Eragon felt mesmerized by the sight of them as he had once before, but they were clouded with pain and he knew she was suffering. Softly, delicately, he tried to speak, hoping that he would not wake.

"If you are real," Eragon murmured. "Then I shall find you. I swear I will find you."

She gave no indication that she'd heard him. Instead, her body trembled and her head fell back down with a soft thump. As soon as she fell back into unconsciousness, Eragon was torn from his dreams.

* * *

He opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the sky. Eragon squinted against the sunlight peeking through the trees and covered his face with one hand.

 _Again with that dream. Could she be real? With my ability to use magic, what are the odds that I could have the same dream, of a woman whom I have never met, over and over again? If she is not real, then why is she haunting my dreams? And if she is real, then…_

 _It is unlike you to be so deep in thought so early in the morning._

That was Saphira, teasing him as usual. Eragon couldn't find it in himself to retort. He was too focused on his thoughts.

 _I don't know what to make of her, Saphira,_ Eragon insisted. _I intend to ask Brom about it, but…what could I do? It's not as though checking every single cell in the Empire is a possibility. For all I know, if she really exists, she could be in Uru'baen._

 _If she is, then we shall never get close to her until it is likely too late,_ Saphira remarked. _I agree that you should tell Brom. He is wise and perhaps he has heard of such things occurring before. As for what to do about her in the event that she is real…why do anything at all?_

 _What?_

 _You know nothing of this woman other than the fact that she is beautiful,_ Saphira sniffed. Was that jealousy he heard? _And that she is imprisoned. For all you know, this is bait. If the enemy has somehow caught on to your dreams, they could very well be baiting you with such visions. The woman you dream of may very well be an enemy acting to lure you in._

 _You could be right,_ Eragon admitted slowly, surprising Saphira. It wasn't often that he just immediately agreed with her on such matters. _But there's something about her…I can't really explain it. It's not just that she's beautiful; honestly, there are beautiful women all over Alagaesia. But she's…different, somehow. More important -and no, I'm not taken with her!_

His denial only earned a mental laugh from Saphira. _You, little one, are_ very _taken with her, but I concede the point. You are trying to think with your head and not your heart, yes?_

 _Hearts don't think, Saphira,_ he grumbled, refusing to admit that his face felt a little hotter than normal. _But yes, that is the general idea. She's not some ordinary person. That's the feeling I get when I see her._

 _Even so, what shall you do about it?_

 _I don't know. Let me think about it._

Eragon finally rose up and found that Murtagh was still sleeping, while Brom was making a fire and Garzhvog was…somewhere. Probably off catching breakfast. Saphira was lying on the ground by him and Thorn was grooming the scales at his shoulder.

He walked over to Brom and the old man looked up to smirk at him. "You look like you've been beaten half to death."

"Close enough," Eragon grumbled. He _was_ hurting pretty much everywhere from Garzhvog's rather eager beatings during their training yesterday. "But I had a question for you."

"As you always do."

Ignoring the sarcasm in Brom's tone, Eragon told him about his dreams and the mysterious woman. At first, Brom seemed like he was going to play it off as teenage hormones, but as Eragon described her and kept his tone serious, he began to think about it more. By the time he finished, Brom was stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"It doesn't match true scrying from what I understand, but it sounds like that's what you're doing," Brom began slowly. "Yet I have never heard of someone scrying in their sleep, nor someone who could scry something or someone they've never seen before. How long has this been going on?"

"Since Teirm," Eragon said truthfully. "At first, I thought it was random, but I've been dreaming of that cell and the woman inside too often for me to pass it off as chance. It's almost every night now. I don't know if she's real or not, but if she is and I do nothing, I'm worried that my last dream of her might be a grave or an empty cell. It's nagging at me to the point that I can't ignore it."

Brom lit his pipe and inhaled for a moment before blowing the smoke out. "And what do you propose to do about it?"

He sat down and poked at the fire with a stick. "I don't know. Checking out every prison in each city we pass is the only idea I've had so far. But since we just barely escaped the Ra'zac, I think every city is going to be on high alert now. It's dangerous enough traveling on the road."

"A wise assessment," Brom praised him. Eragon shrugged, but the old man went on. "I am afraid that we probably can't do much. Nor can I offer you any suggestion as to whom this woman might be. If pressed, I could perhaps come up with a few ideas, but none of them would be very likely. This…shall we say, experience of yours is intriguing to me, but there's no way to test how accurate it is since the object of the spell -if that is truly what it is- is being kept in a prison."

"She's being tortured," Eragon glared into the fire, biting his lower lip aggressively. "Her hands were bleeding this time and she was so pale. It was as if she were sick with something."

Brom's brows furrowed. "Do not think too hard about it, Eragon. You will drive yourself mad wishing to do something for someone who may not even exist. It could be magic or something else. Perhaps you are simply having an odd string of vivid dreams and that is all. They are not pleasant, I will admit you that, but there is just nothing we can do about it. Do not go off attempting anything reckless, do you understand?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "Breaking my wrist was enough for this trip."

"Don't forget the Urgals."

"That was in self-defense!"

Brom chuckled and cuffed him over the back of the head good-naturedly. "Doesn't make you any less of a jumped-up little shit."

Eragon grinned and casually punched Brom in the shoulder, eager to start the day. But the woman in his dreams was always present in the back of his mind.

* * *

Several weeks passed as the group traveled on the road, making their way north for the edge of Du Weldenvarden. Brom had been adamant that they go there now that the Ra'zac were on their tail and not the other way around. Murtagh had tried to suggest that they ambush them, but those thoughts were quickly dismissed.

The Ra'zac had already turned that strategy on them once before in Dras Leona.

The plan was to skirt around the Hadarac Desert at the edge of the ancient forest, for Brom warned that anyone not given a blessing by the elves would never be able to find them and would only become lost in the endless woods. Brom had decided against traveling between Uru'baen and the border with Surda; it was far too close to Galbatorix's reach and the border itself was guarded jealously. If Saphira or Thorn were spotted or either of the brothers recognized, the Kind would dispatch his every soldier to reach them and there would be no escape in any direction.

If they avoided all that trouble and took the long way around, then by the time they reached the Beor Mountains, Saphira and Thorn would be nearly a year old and capable of breathing fire. In addition, Eragon and Murtagh would be well-versed in the ways of magic and better suited to use it in battle.

Eragon and Murtagh continued their training, practicing magic and the sword every day. Sparring with Garzhvog was much harder than fighting Brom, but it helped them to improve their skill and get used to fighting Kull. Though for the first two weeks or so, Garzhvog left them groaning in pain in the dirt after their sparring sessions.

Brom got one too many laughs out of that.

Saphira and Thorn had another growth spurt during that time. They'd reached almost six months of age and were massive. Their wings spanned thirty feet in either direction and the teeth at the front of their jaws were as thick around as Eragon's fists. They still weren't as big as the Lethrblaka, but they were huge in their own right and it now took several deer to feed just one of them. It forced the dragons to fly far and wide, but they managed to stay out of sight.

Eragon's dreams of the imprisoned woman plagued him endlessly. There were several instances where he woke up to find tears streaming down his cheeks. The closer they got to Gil'ead, the worse it became. He was starting to pick up on something else in the dreams, something dark with a seemingly confused viciousness. Whenever he tried to remain in the dream, desperate for some evidence that he could use to pinpoint the woman's location if she were real, the strange presence forced him out of the dream. He'd suffered a migraine so intense one morning that he'd been sick.

Brom had not said anything, but Eragon's fleeting glance at him told the old man enough to know that it was the dreams that had made him so ill.

They had reached the wilderness surrounding Gil'ead when it all came to a head.

* * *

Eragon was leaning against a tree by the camp, massaging his temple while he glared at the lights of Gil'ead irritably. His head was pounding and he couldn't find it in himself to eat much.

Saphira's tail twitched restlessly at the edge of camp. Through their bond, she was experiencing what he felt and knew how much his head was hurting. _Eragon, you must eat._

 _She's in Gil'ead,_ Eragon scowled. _I know she is. Whatever is making my head hurt is in those damned barracks, taunting me from afar._

Her eyes narrowed. _You cannot go in there._

 _Then what do you suggest I do?! I cannot even think straight, my head is pounding so much. If this is what a night of liquor and a bar fight feels like, I swear I'll never partake of alcohol as long as I live!_

 _At least your sense of humor is still there._

His lips twitched up in a smile, but even that slight movement made his head swim and he groaned. _I do not know what this is, but it hurts._

 _Ask Brom-_

 _Brom did not know what to make of it all, remember? His theories will only make my head hurt more right now._

 _But perhaps there is a way to block it out?_

 _Perhaps…Saphira-_

Eragon suddenly slumped against the tree. Saphira's head jerked up to stare at her Rider, who felt as though he'd gone unconscious.

Garzhvog was the first to notice the dragon's change in demeanor and glanced after Eragon. His thick brow furrowed. "Is something amiss?"

Brom and Murtagh both looked up to stare at the youngest Rider, who was barely standing up with his arms limp at his sides. The elder of them rose and approached Eragon slowly. "Eragon?"

 _Brom, get away from him!_ Saphira roared.

Eragon suddenly spun around, a wild look in his eyes as he sloppily tore Undbitr from its sheathe. Brom barely managed to get his own sword up to block the crazed overhead blow. To Brom's immense surprise, the strike was viciously overpowered, far more so than any man would be capable of. He stared at Eragon in shock and realized that the boy's eyes were distant and his face blank.

"Someone's in his mind!" Brom exclaimed, pushing his sword against Eragon's to quickly back up. Murtagh and Garzhvog were on their feet, weapons at the ready, though neither of them seemed sure what to do.

Saphira was trying to circle Eragon, her fangs bared in a snarl. _I cannot feel him! Who_ ** _dares_** _take his mind from me?!_

Thorn was trying to get around on the other side and for a moment it looked like it would come to a battle to pin Eragon down, but then the boy did the most unexpected thing possible. He turned and ran.

Right towards Gil'ead.

Brom blanched. "They're bringing him back to the city! Stop him!"

They took off after him, but whoever had Eragon under their control was enhancing the strength of his body and forcing him to reach inhuman speeds. Not even Garzhvog could keep up with him.

Saphira was about to launch herself into the air, but Brom sent a mental bellow in her direction. _Do not follow him! If they capture you both, we will never save him!_

A anguished howl tore from her throat, for she knew Brom was right. _Eragon!_

* * *

Eragon blinked his eyes open slowly. Where was he again? He'd been at camp and then everything had gone dark…

"Come to, have you?"

He flew to attention at the unfamiliar voice, filled with malice and smug satisfaction. Eragon stared at the crimson eyes and pale face before him and knew instantly that the man -or so he appeared to be- was not human. Malevolence seemed to make up every fiber of his very being and the air seemed permeated with a sense of death.

The being smiled and the sight sent an involuntary shiver down Eragon's spine. Something so closely associated with death should not move like a living thing.

"You've given us quite the chase, my young Rider," the man said. "Escaping the Ra'zac not once, but twice, pursuing them halfway across the Empire and back again trying to flee yet again. What was your goal this time? Du Weldenvarden? You are a fool to seek shelter with the elves; they are a selfish and capricious race."

Eragon tried to move and realized that his hands were cuffed to either side of his body. He was standing, his legs chained at the ankles and his arms chained at the wrists. As he took in his surroundings, he realized he was in a dungeon- and one very like the cell containing the woman in his dreams.

But he was more preoccupied trying to figure out how he'd gotten here in the first place.

"Where am I?" He growled, unafraid of the man. "And who are you?"

"You are in Gil'ead's prison, of which I am the warden," the man replied smoothly. "You may call me Durza."

 _Durza_.

The name sent a chord of recognition through Eragon and his eyes widened as he realized what the man really was. "You're the Shade! Was it you who took me here?"

Durza chuckled. "It was not me, though you could say that I influenced the one who brought you here. It was not an easy task, I will admit; the minds of broken things are not directed so simply."

He stepped to one side and Eragon blinked when he saw a large, black jewel on a table just behind where Durza had once stood. It was about the same shape as Saphira's egg had been, yet it was roughly twice the size. The longer he looked at it, the more he felt like it was emanating some sort of power and then it clicked. This… _thing_ was the same force that had been tormenting his dreams and giving him headaches.

"But enough about me," Durza brought Eragon out of his brief realization. "I'm far more interested in you. Since you'll be serving the King from now on, we'll have lots of time to get to know each other, but I'm currently rather occupied trying to find your dragon and the other Rider. I don't suppose you'll tell me willingly?"

"Your jokes aren't funny," Eragon snapped. "Seriously? Stop wasting my time and pull the threats out already. I'm not playing your stupid game."

Durza's smile only widened. "Good, because I hate that game as well. It's always been more pleasurable for me to just torture someone for the information I want. Cowards that give up all they have immediately are so boring, I usually just kill them for ruining my sport."

"Spare me your twisted fantasies and let's get to the point," he snarled. "I have no intention of telling you anything and frankly even torture won't do you any good. We are at an impasse."

"No, no, no," Durza waved his finger as if admonishing a child. "We are not at an impasse because that implies that you have any leverage over me at all. You are in no place to make any kind of demand from me because we have yet to see if any of my tortures work on you. And though I have, unfortunately, been given orders not to kill you, I can think of several things that might encourage you to tell me what I want."

He turned around then and made for the door of the cell, smirking over his shoulder. "This will be the first one. You shall try to resist the madness of a broken beast. Should you succeed where you failed last time, consider me impressed. Should you fail yet again…well, I have ordered it to be considerably less gentle with you than it was before. Have fun~"

Durza closed the door behind him with an decisive bang and left Eragon to wonder at his words. He turned his head to stare at the jewel with a dark scowl. If he got out of here, he was going to shove a sword through Durza's mouth just to shut him up. Then he was going to rip Gil'ead apart brick by brick to find the woman he dreamt of- he knew she was here. She had to be if this twisted thing was real as well.

…was it just him or was light flickering in the heart of the jewel?

No sooner had he thought that then an alien mind, old, powerful, and terribly confused, lashed out and struck at his own. Eragon was shocked by the force it possessed. He had not expected it before -he assumed this was what had made him go unconscious at camp- but now that he had anticipated its assault, he could grasp just how much power it really held.

It's very being encompassed him with no effort. Eragon realized with a shock of terror that no defense he put up would be even remotely enough to stop it from breaking into his mind and running rampant. He threw up mental barriers out of desperation, trying to use all of Brom's teachings to their fullest extent, but the alien mind threw coils of thought around his defenses. It began to crush him like a python crushes prey and as soon as his mind gave way even a little, it crushed further.

The instant it had created a breach in his mind, it pulverized his shields and assumed total control over Eragon.

He let out a soundless scream as it rampaged through him, mindless and careless of where it went so long as he hurt. Eragon desperately tried to fight it off, but it only hammered at his pitiful defense ruthlessly until his attempt was smashed into oblivion. The being pulled at his mind harshly, yanking on memories that were both recent and faraway in his childhood. There seemed to be no ulterior motive than to cause him pain, but as soon as the mind found memories of Saphira, it locked onto those and began to attack him even more violently.

Helpless before the onslaught, Eragon could only remain where he stood, chained as his body convulsed in agony. Before the might of this terribly powerful mind, he stood no chance. Was this what it was like to face the inevitable?

Suddenly, a whole myriad of minds were pressing in around him. Eragon wasn't sure what was happening at first, so lost was he in pain, but the alien mind seemed to freeze and sent tendrils of thought in their direction. The new minds began a calculated, devastating attack, which tore the confused mind away from him and trapped it. Despite its might, the new minds pummeled it into submission where it threw up its own defenses and cowered there, sensing that it was under threat.

Warmth enveloped his whole being as Eragon realized that he was no longer under attack. He gasped for air as the pain faded, sweating profusely from the experience.

One of the new minds sent a tendril of thought at him, requesting permission. Eragon did not have the strength to deny it, but he knew that these strange minds had saved him from the agony of the first. He exhaustedly gave it permission, though he was wary of it still.

 _Forgive us, little one,_ the mind told him. The voice was deep and baritone, carrying a sense of ancient wisdom. _We could not interfere until the broken one had touched you._

 _Who are you?_ He asked wearily.

 _I cannot tell you. But we seek to free you from this place. You must return to your dragon and the other Rider, or there will be no hope to slay Galbatorix._

 _I cannot escape. Gil'ead is a fortress and Durza is here…_

 _We will help you, Eragon. But there are two things you must know before we do so. First, the woman you have dreamt of. The visions you had were sent from us. She is real and very alive- for now. But you must escape with her now, for soon she shall be brought before Galbatorix. Secondly, the last dragon egg is in Gil'ead as well._

Shock went through him. _How do you know this?_

 _We watch. We have watched for many years, little one. Morzan, the Forsworn, left the egg here not five nights ago to complete a mission for the King elsewhere. Now is your chance- the only chance- to rescue the woman we spoke of and to steal the last egg away from the Empire. You_ ** _must_** _do this._

 _How? I am not an elf, nor am I even an experienced Rider…I do not have the strength!_

 _As I said, we will help you. But do not fret over your own shortcomings, little one. Saphira did not choose you because she saw weakness in you. Have faith in your dragon, for she waited a thousand years to hatch for you. There is no more time for me to speak now. We must make haste._

A thrum of power began to build up in the air around the black jewel and the consciousness which belonged to it seemed to curl up even further in on itself. The myriad of minds that had come to his aid surrounded Eragon, generating magic that was raw and indescribable. They were going to cast a spell.

 _What is your name?_ Eragon asked, pleading with them. _Who are you that can do this?_

 _You will forget even if I tell you,_ the mind responded. There was a pause. _But if it brings you just a moment's strength, then know it, Dragon Rider. I am Umaroth._

The thrum of magic reached a peak and then the spell was cast, infusing his whole body with heat and energy. Eragon threw his head back in a cry as the magic rushed through his every vein and cell and permeated it with something that he did not recognize. It felt like a fire was being lit inside of him and spreading, consuming him and reshaping his being…

 _This is our gift to you, Eragon. Do what you must._

* * *

Eragon was not sure how long he was unconscious until he became aware of the cell door opening up. Durza strode in, a confidant expression on his face, but he froze upon seeing Eragon. The Shade's eyes flickered to the jewel and his brow creased into a frown before he looked at Eragon once more.

"What have you done?"

He didn't quite have the energy to speak yet. Eragon felt like his whole body was trying to recover itself and make sure everything was where it needed to be. He felt so light and his senses were overloaded with input, as though they'd been enhanced beyond what he could comprehend.

Durza strode forward with a nasty look on his face and grabbed Eragon's chin to make the boy look at the Shade. "I ask you again; what have you done?"

Rage surged to the forefront of Eragon's mind and he swung a fist at Durza on reflex, forgetting the chains trapping his wrists.

As it turned out, there was no need to remember them; Eragon ripped right through the metal with a sharp screech of tearing metal. His fist collided with Durza's face and launched the Shade into the table that bore the black jewel.

It was hard to tell who was more surprised; Durza, who just stared at Eragon with a dumbfounded face, or Eragon himself, who stared at the shredded chain. But both of them came to the same realization a few moments later.

Eragon had broken free.

He tore through the remaining chains in an instant with whatever supernatural strength had been bestowed upon him and lunged at Durza. The Shade rose to his feet with a snarl and locked his hands with Eragon's, both of them shoving against each other with all their might. Durza lashed out with tendrils of thought, but when he did, Eragon pushed his muscles to the limit and forced the Shade to one knee.

Durza opened his mouth, to cast a spell or shout for help, Eragon did not know. But he immediately stopped the attempt by smashing his own forehead against the Shade's nose. Durza shrieked as his nose broke with an audible crack, spitting out words of rage and curses at the boy.

"Who are you?!" Durza demanded. "No human could do this!"

He grit his teeth as he did his best to keep the Shade pinned, but Durza was quickly getting over his surprise. In a swift motion, Eragon let go of one of Durza's hands and snatched his throat, giving him control of the Shade's head. "My name is Eragon."

With every bit of force he possessed, Eragon pulled Durza forward, then shoved him back so that the edge of the table behind him pierced the back of the Shade's skull. There was a sickening crunch, followed by an unearthly scream from Durza. Eragon yelped and leapt back as the Shade's body exploded in a surge of black energy and faded away.

Dazed, Eragon stared at the spot where Durza had exploded. What had just happened?

He stared at his hands, which looked normal as far as he could tell. But where had the strength he felt come from? Eragon was fit, but he wasn't so powerful that he could outmatch a Shade like Durza. What on earth had he done?

His eyes flitted to the black jewel, which flickered with light at its core. Eragon's eyes hardened as he approached and he became aware of the alien mind lashing out at him in self defense. But he felt like he could resist it more now and walked up to it until his hands lay upon the gem.

Beneath his touch, it felt alive, yet not alive. The swirling madness of the mind within it spoke of that. Eragon grasped the jewel in his hands and lifted it up so he could glare into the light hidden deep within. "I don't know what you are, but I can't have you hindering me. If you try to attack me again, I will destroy you."

He lifted his hands up above his head, the jewel clenched firmly between them, and then hurled it down with all his strength. The force shattered the table which had once held the jewel and caused the gem to become embedded in the stone floor. It did not crack, but the light faded somewhat. Apparently, Eragon's message had been heard loud and clear, for the mind cowered back into itself.

Satisfied, Eragon walked to the cell door and glanced into the hall of the dungeon. Somehow, the whole event in his cell had been undetected. He certainly wouldn't complain.

 _Saphira?_ He doubted he would reach her, but he tried anyway. Much to his surprise, he got a response.

 _Eragon!_ She sounded relieved. _Oh, little one! I've been trying to contact you since you were taken! It's been three days?_

 _Has it really been that long?_

 _Yes! Murtagh and Brom have been at each other's throats trying to figure out how to rescue you. Where are you?_

 _Gil'ead. I'm in a prison, but I just broke free._

Surprise emanated from her, then alarm. _Have you been spotted?_

 _Surprisingly, no. A lot happened just now that I can't explain. Can you help me talk to Brom?_

 _Yes, just a moment._

There was a pause at which Eragon ducked back inside his cell, not chancing the odds of a guard coming by and spotting him standing in the hall. He waited until Brom's voice filled his mind.

 _Eragon, tell me you're alright!_

 _I'm fine. Something odd's happened to my body, but I'm okay otherwise._

 _Odd? What do you mean, odd?_

 _It'd take too long to explain,_ Eragon insisted. _Listen, this is important. I just broke free and I'm going to escape, but there are things I have to do first._

 _Do not tarry in there! Get out this instant!_

 _I can't! The last dragon egg is here!_

Shock roared through Brom. _How do you know this?_

 _My captor told me. He said that Morzan left the egg here a few days ago for business with the King. I know where it is; I have to steal it and save the woman I told you of._

 _You are certain?_

 _I am._

Brom paused for a moment. Eragon could just picture the gears whirling in his head. _Murtagh and I will come to Gil'ead from the air. Garzhvog will wait with the horses- you get the egg and the woman out of that dungeon and onto the roof. Keep in touch with Saphira so she can guide you, but don't risk any more if you can help it, Eragon! We will never get such a chance ever again!_

 _I know,_ he responded. _Hurry!_

 _That's my line! Don't you dare die on me, Eragon!_

With that, the connection was cut off and Eragon darted into the hallway of the prison. His eyes flickered from cell to cell, trying to find the woman from his dreams. He knew she was here- she had to be!

Eventually, he came to a thick iron door with what looked like bloodstains dragged on the stone entrance. Eragon grimaced and assumed this was a torture chamber, but he opened it anyways.

What he saw made him want to cry and raze Gil'ead to the ground all at once.

The woman was hanging from shackles that were attached to the ceiling, her legs unable to keep her up. Bruises and slashes and brands covered her body, turning her flesh an ugly shade of black and purple. She was barely clothed and devoid of a shirt, but her long hair, strewn over the front of her body, preserved her modesty to some degree. Her leather leggings were shredded at the knees and for a moment he was terrified that she was no longer alive.

He slowly approached her and once he was within two meters, she stirred and somehow managed to lift her head up to stare at him. Startling green eyes looked at him coldly, as though she expected him to be another assailant. She was broken in body, but her eyes…he had never seen such strength, regality, and willpower.

Her hair shifted slightly and exposed her left ear, which was pointed and slender. An elf! Despite his shock upon that realization, he desperately sought to reassure her.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I swear," Eragon paused and switched to the ancient language. Brom had told him that elves knew the ancient language better than any other race. _"I am a Rider and a friend."_

Shock replaced the cold expression in her eyes and her lips parted in a silent gasp. Eragon offered her a brief smile, but his face remained serious. "We need to get you out of here."

He reached up to grasp the shackles, doing his best to avoid touching her needlessly- he didn't want to aggravate her injuries. The elf spoke then with a melodious voice that barely concealed the pain she was going through. "The Shade has the keys."

"No longer. I destroyed him," Eragon muttered, surprising her. His hands clenched around the shackles. "Nor do I need them."

He crushed the metal with the same, superhuman strength he'd felt before. Eragon switched to the other one and destroyed it as well, catching the elf as she collapsed onto him. She was surprisingly light, though again, he avoided touching her too much. After destroying the chains holding her ankles, he braced her against his arm while he held his other hand over her wounded torso.

"We don't have time for this," she snapped weakly. "You'll run out of energy before you…"

"I can't heal you completely right now, but I can heal you enough to walk," Eragon cut her off. "We still need to retrieve the dragon egg and my weapons."

"Dragon egg?" Her eyes lit up in alarm. "One of them is here?"

"Yes," Eragon told her as he healed her tortured body.

"Where are the others?" She demanded, lifting one hand to grasp his collar with surprising strength given her condition. "The other two eggs?"

"They hatched. One for me, the other for my elder brother."

Her eyes grew as round as the full moon and to Eragon's alarm, she let out a small laugh. "This is another torture, isn't it? Durza has finally driven my mind into a maddened fantasy."

"You have _not_ gone mad," he snarled in denial. He refused to believe that he was too late to save both her mind and her body. "Just listen."

He gave a mental shout then and a moment later, Saphira's roar filled the air. The elf gasped in disbelief.

As soon as Eragon had healed her to the point that she could walk on her own, he removed his tunic and had her cover herself with it. He hated to admit it- because Saphira would never let him live it down- but she was terribly attractive to him and her bare skin was far too much of a distraction. He couldn't afford distractions during a prison break.

Eragon led her out of the torture chamber and up to the second floor, where he assumed Durza's office was. He spotted a door that was made of expensive wood and furnished with red paint in the symbol of the Empire. That had to be it, though he stopped when a dozen soldiers ran to blockade it from two halls on either side of the office.

The elf frowned. "There are too many of them. We need weapons."

Eragon growled and clenched his hand. "That's not a problem."

The soldiers charged and Eragon lunged at them, but they seemed to be moving in slow motion. A man tried to stab him with a pike, only for Eragon to tear the weapon from his grasp, spin it around, and impale him instead. He pushed forward and punched through two other men with the same weapon, letting them fall into a heap on the ground.

Next, a soldier slashed at his head with a broadsword. Eragon grabbed his wrist and squeezed, pulverizing the bone forcing him to release the weapon. The soldier didn't even have time to scream before he slashed the blade cleanly through the man's neck, beheading him. He dispatched six more with the broadsword, dancing and weaving through their ranks to kill them.

Two more remained, staring at the carnage in horror. Eragon flicked the blood from the broadsword and approached them, his bare torso stained with the gore of battle. His dark eyes fixed on them as he lunged in a blur of speed, beheading one. The other collapsed to the ground with a cry of terror. "Monster!"

His hands were raised as if to ward Eragon off, but they too were severed as he slashed through them and the man's neck.

All that in the span of twenty seconds.

Eragon stalked up to the office door and smashed the hilt of the broadsword against it, breaking the construct off its hinges. By then, the elf had caught up with him and was staring at his bloodstained figure with slight wariness. "Who are you?"

He tossed the broadsword away. "My name is Eragon."

He didn't wait to see if that garnered any reaction from her, nor did he dwell on the grisly feat he'd just accomplished. Eragon had spotted Undbitr and his bow and quiver of arrows, which he quickly reclaimed for himself. In the meantime, the elf had retrieved her own weapons- an elegant bow and a curved blade that could only be of elven make.

Eragon glanced around the office and spotted on the ornate desk the object he sought; a fancy chest that looked like just the right kind of expensive to hold something priceless. He opened it up, as the key was still fitted in the lock, and exposed a dragon egg the same hue as an emerald.

The elf's eyes had widened in mesmerization. "The last egg…"

Eragon nodded and removed the egg from the chest, offering it to the elf. "Can you carry it?"

Her gaze flitted up to him with a hint of insult in her eyes. "Do not confuse me for a weak human female."

He met her glare warily. "I do not ask to insult you. I know that elves are many times stronger than a man, but you've been tortured for who knows how long. Surely even you realize that your body is strained."

Her eyes still smoldered, but the hostility in them died somewhat. "Do not presume you know my strength as I do. But I will forgive your insult so long as you do not presume such of me again."

"Then I won't," he promised. She nodded stiffly and took the egg from him. Eragon unsheathed Undbitr and led the way out of the office. "We're going to the roof. Saphira will be waiting for us there."

They hurried to the nearest set of stairs and worked their way to the top of the building. Twice more they encountered soldiers and twice more Eragon slew them with inhuman strength. He didn't have time to dwell on it, but his sudden unnatural strength unnerved him greatly.

Upon reaching the roof, Eragon called for Saphira and the blue dragon rushed down after dodging a rain of arrows. She landed with a thunderous crash and immediately lowered her head to Eragon's, touching her nose to his face. Her voice sounded incredulous. _Little one? Is that really you?_

 _Saphira. I missed you,_ Eragon kissed her snout and turned to gesture to the elf. "Climb on."

The elf looked stunned by the appearance of Saphira, but she nodded and climbed on after Eragon did. Saphira had to lower herself to her belly to do so, but she took the chance to briefly study the woman. When she realized what she was, the dragon hissed in surprise. _An elf!_

 _Take off, now!_ Eragon ordered urgently. Thorn was roaring at the archers with Brom and Murtagh on his back, but he would only be able to distract them for so long. Saphira launched herself off the top of the prison and into the air, rocketing away from Gil'ead as fast as she could. Thorn followed soon after.

Eragon felt pain jolt through his shoulders as Saphira's wings were pierced by a few arrows and he growled angrily, feeling a sudden desire to turn back and slay the arches who dared to fire at her. But he forced the feeling down as they continued to fly into the night, away from Gil'ead.

 _Are you alright?_

 _That's MY line,_ Saphira snapped back. _You're covered in blood from head to toe. But to answer your question, I am alright, though there is an arrow still lodged in my wing._

 _I'll remove it once we're clear of Gil'ead._

He felt a hand touch his arm, jolting him out of the haze he'd been drawn into. Eragon glanced over his shoulder to see the elf looking at him in concern. "Is she alright?"

Eragon nodded. "There's an arrow in her wing, but she'll be okay. The egg?"

"Safe," she assured, clutching the emerald bundle tightly to her body. It was lodged almost uncomfortably between her stomach and Eragon's spine, but he ignored it for now.

That was the least of his concerns once the aftermath of their escape set in.


	13. A Blessing and A Curse

_Chapter 13: A Blessing and A Curse_

They did not stop running until the following morning. After they reached the horses, Brom and Garzhvog took them and raced off, leading the dragons and their Riders flying overhead deep into the wilderness.

Reaching a small lake that was hidden in the forest, Brom finally called for them to rest. Saphira and Thorn were still small enough to be hidden beneath the trees from anyone searching for them from above; which Brom was certain there would be given that they had just stolen the last dragon egg.

It should have been a moment for excitement, but it wasn't.

Eragon dismounted Saphira, tempted to offer the elf his hand, but he quickly changed his mind when she shot him a warning look. He walked over to Saphira's wing instead, where he could still see the shaft of an arrow impaled in her flesh. She was panting from the incredible toll flying all night with an injured wing took on her, but, thankfully, didn't seem to be in too much pain.

He set his hand on her wing close to the broken shaft. _This needs to come out._

 _Just give me…a second…_

Eragon nodded and gently rubbed the scales along her torso, trying to soothe Saphira as much as he could. When she finally caught her breath, she latched her jaws around a small tree and spoke to him. _I'm ready._

Gripping the shaft firmly, but gently so as to avoid causing her further pain, Eragon yanked it out as quickly as possible. Saphira jerked and pulled the sapling out of the ground with a yelp, forcing Eragon to duck as her wing nearly clipped him in the face. He backed off until she had settled again and inspected the injury.

"Good," he nodded, holding his hand over the now bleeding puncture wound. "Waise heill."

Eragon streamed magic into the wound until it was fully healed, feeling only a minor drain on his energy reserves. It was a relief that he could heal Saphira before there was a chance for infection to set in, but it also made him wary. Apparently, his physical strength was not the only thing enhanced by the strange jewel in Durza's prison.

Turning around, he blinked when he saw Brom and Murtagh staring at him with a dumbfounded expression. His elder brother made a choked sound. "Eragon?"

He looked down at himself and grimaced. His bare torso was covered in dried blood, none of it his own, which was turning black and cracking. It was by no means a pretty sight, but he didn't dwell over it much with the promise of a lake nearby to cleanse himself.

Eragon shook his head and walked to the saddlebags still attached to Saphira to grab a change of clothes. "I need to clean up. I'll be quick- we can't stop running now."

"Are you hurt?" Brom asked quietly. His face was inscrutable.

"I don't think so," he replied. "But I don't feel myself, either."

 _Little one,_ Saphira crooned to him. Eragon offered her a comforting nudge through his mind, but nothing more. He needed a moment to himself to come to terms with what had just happened.

He stalked off into the woods around the lake, trying to get away from the stares of his traveling companions. It was odd, he thought as he walked, how he could still hear them clearly despite being a fair distance away. His senses felt like they were driven to the highest of possibilities. There was so much input, that when he finally dove into the water to clean himself, the sudden silence was a welcome relief.

Eragon swam down into the lake, which was relatively shallow, and once he found the bottom, he began to scrub the dried blood off of his body. It came off in a foul cloud, disturbing the water around him.

The events at Gil'ead played in his mind over and over again. His mental battle with the black jewel, Durza's shock and subsequent death, rescuing the elf, his slaying of the soldiers…

That last one hit him like a ton of bricks. Eragon had never killed another human before and he felt like it should have bothered him more than it did. His lack of a moral response to the grisly death he had wrought upon them scared the hell out of him.

 _What did that thing do to me?_

The jewel had something to do with this, he knew. His suddenly superhuman strength and heightened senses, not to mention his greater capacity for magic, and his decreased morality could all be traced back to that gem. How could it have had a mind and more importantly, exactly what did it do to him?

Eragon remembered briefly that he'd been overpowered mentally be the jewel's mind and at its mercy. Yet somehow, he'd come back from that and not only fought back, but won and beat the jewel into submission. Then he'd overpowered a Shade -something that no human, alive or dead, Rider or not- should be capable of.

And he'd slaughtered human soldiers without so much as pausing for a second. Even now when he thought about it, Eragon found it frighteningly easy to just wave the killing off as a trivial thing.

Another thing…why did Brom and Murtagh -even Durza, for that matter- seem so shocked by his appearance? The former two perhaps could be explained by the massive amounts of blood that had caked his body, but why had Durza been surprised? What could possibly have caught the Shade off-guard to the point that Eragon had been able to overpower him?

…what else had the jewel done to him?

Eragon swam up to the surface as he began to run out of breath and stood up as he reached shallow waters again. He stood up, covered from the waist-down by the rippling water, and waited for it to still so that he could look at his reflection.

When the water calmed and he got a good look at himself, Eragon froze.

His face had been changed. His features were sharper, less human somehow. His eyes had slanted like the elf's and his ears had become pointed. Even his body looked different. The muscle he'd built up over the past few months looked slimmer, yet he felt stronger than ever before. He looked fairer than any human, yet still possessed some rugged quality that made him feel different from the elf.

Not to mention his eyes. In addition to slanting, the pupils within his brown irises had become slitted like a cat's. Like Saphira's.

"What the…" Eragon startled at his voice. He hadn't thought about it until then, when it was quiet and he was alone, but his voice didn't sound completely human anymore. There was a slightly musical undertone to it now. He stared at his reflection, open mouthed, and realized that the canine teeth in his jaw had sharpened. Just poking them with his finger made it clear how sharp they were.

 _What am I now?_

Man? Elf? Or something else? He doubted the sharpened teeth or slitted eyes were features that belonged to either race.

 _Eragon?_

He turned towards the shore to see Saphira shifting through the trees, her saddle no longer attached to her body. The blue dragon slipped into the water and swam in a circle around him. Her head rose up above Eragon so she could look down at him, studying her Rider.

Eragon looked away, lifting his hand to study it. His hands didn't look as rough as they normally did and there was a predatory sleekness to them that reminded him of claws. _I don't know what's happened to me, Saphira._

 _What happened in Gil'ead?_

 _I don't know. Durza -the Shade- he had something in my cell. A jewel with a mind of its own. It was so powerful, I didn't even stand a chance. It overpowered me and then…I can't remember. Something happened to me and when I came to, I was like this. I broke free and killed Durza…I freed the elf, and killed those soldiers…_

 _Little one?_ Saphira nudged him gently with her snout. Eragon's body had begun to tremble. _What is it?_

 _…I killed them,_ it was barely a whisper of thought in his mind. _All of them. I didn't even hesitate. It was so easy. I feel like I should at least feel remorse for killing them all the way I did, but I don't. Not even a little bit. It feels like killing them was the most natural thing in the world._

 _You cannot let what happened haunt you so, Eragon,_ Saphira told him softly. _For if you had not killed them, they would have either captured or killed you and the elf. Not to mention the last dragon egg would have once more fallen into their hands. It was necessary, little one._

 _But what's happened to me, Saphira?_

 _The only thing I can think of is that the jewel you mentioned cast some kind of spell on you, perhaps one that didn't go as planned since you managed to counterattack and overpower it afterward. Perhaps it intended to subject you to an attack and the spell became warped in some way. Whatever the case, the aftereffects weren't necessarily all bad._

She pushed her snout into his chest, prompting Eragon to hug her head to him and kiss the scales above her brow. The dragon's sapphire orbs studied him with a comforting expression. _It might take me a little time to get used to your new appearance, but you are still my little one, Eragon. As you always shall be._

 _I know,_ Eragon thought. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly to calm himself. _I love you, Saphira._

 _And I you,_ she hummed to him.

* * *

They continued to run for the rest of the day, only coming to a stop in a small forest on the edge of the Hadarac Desert. It was little more than shrubbery and there were few trees, but what few there were served as a suitable hiding spot for the weary travelers and dragons.

Eragon could feel all eyes land on him as he sat down on a log by the campfire they'd made. He averted his gaze from them and prodded the flames with a stick. "Right, so where are we going now? Half the Empire is after us and the other half will join them once Galbatorix finds out we stole the egg."

"The obvious move would be to go to Du Weldenvarden," Brom took a smoke from his pipe and exhaled. "But I have a feeling that the lands between us and the elves are going to be heavily guarded by Galbatorix's men. He certainly knows by now that the egg was stolen and he'll dispatch every soldier he has to cut us off from the elves. He knows that if we get there, he will never touch the egg again."

"More importantly," Brom sighed in exasperation. "Following the slaying of the elven guard who were transporting Thorn and Saphira's eggs between the elves and the Varden, the Queen has completely rejected all attempts at contacting her and her race."

Garzvhog gestured at the elf, who sat apart from the rest of the group and held the emerald dragon egg closely to her. "Could she not contact them?"

Brom glanced at the elf with a raised eyebrow, but she shook her head stiffly. "I cannot. Queen Islanzadi would not allow it."

Murtagh frowned. "Why not? Surely if she finds out that the eggs were safely transported -and not just that, but they both hatched- then she would be inclined to help us, right?"

She shook her head yet again. "We cannot contact her from outside of Du Weldenvarden. The very air and earth of the forest is permeated in magic and ancient wards that deny even Galbatorix. No, I would have to go to one of the cities near the border before I could reach her and we are far and away from even those. Osilon is the nearest city from our current position, but it is as far as Uru'baen is from Gil'ead and I do not know the western mountains of the forest well enough to reach it. If it were just me, the forest might guide me, but we have with us three men, two dragons, and a Kull, the latter of which you have yet to explain to me."

She eyed the Urgal warily, but Eragon was quick to defend him. "His name is Garzhvog. He's traveling with us to help free his people from Galbatorix."

He paused a second and frowned, then looked at Garzhvog curiously. "I just thought of this, but since I killed Durza, shouldn't your people be free of his spell?"

Brom's eyebrows rose high. "You killed _Durza?"_

"I think so," Eragon replied. "I mean, I smashed his head into the edge of a table and he kind of…exploded."

"That sounds like death to me," Murtagh grunted.

Brom's eyebrows sunk back down into a frown. "No, you didn't kill him. Any other being might've died from such a blow, but Shades are not like most mortal beings. They're clusters of spirits imprisoned within a physical body. To kill one, you must stab it in the heart. It will not be pleasant, but Durza will be resurrected shortly."

Eragon let his head fall back out of exasperation to stare at the stars. He did a mental count of ten to keep himself from losing his temper at his failure, then returned to the conversation. "Okay, so the Urgals are still being controlled by his magic."

The elf stared at Garzhvog. "How are you not affected?"

"My sire was a warlock; one of our kind who could wield magic," Garzhvog explained. "After I became fully grown, he taught me how to defend my mind. It was barely enough for me to escape Durza's spell, but I managed. I wandered the land after that, trying to find a way to kill him and the King when I found the Riders and their elder."

Her gaze trailed from Garzhvog to Brom, who again exhaled from his pipe. "I searched his mind with his permission and his story is accurate. I believe him; not to mention, he slew a Ra'zac and crippled one of the Lethrblaka when we were ambushed by them."

The elf had the courtesy to look impressed by Garzhvog and her wariness died somewhat, though it did not vanish entirely. Brom blew a smoke ring after a moment of silence. "Shall I introduce you all?"

She shook her head. "There is no need. My name is Arya. I was the courier of the dragon eggs and the ambassador between the elves and the Varden."

Brom grunted. "Arya and I have met before, though it's been quite some time. We've already spoken of Garzhvog. These are Murtagh, Rider of Thorn, and- "

"Eragon," she interrupted, eyeing him with a wary curiosity. "And what is the name of your dragon?"

Saphira's head and neck snaked through the air to Eragon's side, nudging him gently. He smiled and lifted one hand to stroke the scales beneath her chin. "Her name is Saphira."

Arya studied him for a moment. "Few elves are named after the first Dragon Rider and even fewer humans. If that is truly what you are…"

Eragon stiffened, but Brom shot him a look. "Eragon is human, but it would seem that something happened to him during his brief imprisonment at Gil'ead. What happened, boy?"

He didn't want to answer, but Saphira gave him a mental nudge and a croon. Eragon sighed and leaned his head against hers. "I don't really know. After I was captured, I woke up and found Durza in the room with me. He taunted me, asked about Saphira, Murtagh, and Thorn, then said he was going to torture me when I refused to say anything. There was a black jewel in the room with us. Somehow, it had a mind of its own…when Durza left, it attacked my mind and overwhelmed me. I still can't believe how strong it was. It crushed my defenses like they were paper."

"So what happened?" Murtagh asked, frowning. "It sounds like you were completely trapped."

"I was, that's the thing that bothers me," Eragon said. "I was totally defeated and I think I lost consciousness. When I woke up I was like this. Durza came in and I broke free of my chains. That was when I defeated him, then I smashed the jewel into the floor. It didn't break, but the mind inside of it left me alone after that. Once that was done, I got in touch with Saphira and…well, you know the rest."

Arya studied him for several moments. "Are you sure no one tried to tamper with your mind while you were imprisoned? If you've any knowledge of magic at all, you know that gems and stones do not possess a consciousness. They can hold energy inside of them, yes, but not an actual living thing."

He scoffed. "Of course I know that, but there was something different about this jewel. There was a light flickering inside of it. It seemed to react to my thoughts when it was attacking my mind."

"That doesn't make sense," Murtagh muttered.

Brom had been quiet during the whole story and looked deep in thought as he smoked from his pipe.

Eragon turned his gaze to his mentor pleadingly. "Have you ever heard of something like that, Brom? What was in my head? What did it do to me?"

The old man looked up at him and let out a long sigh, stroking his beard. "Before I say anything -and it is precious little- you must understand that there are things I am not at liberty to say. I have made vows in the Ancient Language to keep certain secrets safe and they are not mine to tell."

"What I can say is that this particular…creature, shall we say, is not unheard of. They are extraordinarily rare and exceptionally gifted in magic, but that is all I can say of them. There are very few of them left. I don't know how Galbatorix managed to get his hands on one, but I can assume from what Eragon has said that he has likely broken its mind quite thoroughly. In its madness, I suspect it cast a spell on Eragon by instinct and the result was something it could not defend itself against."

"Durza did say something about how it was difficult to guide the mind of a broken thing," Eragon murmured. He studied his hands with a frown. "Will I ever return to normal or am I stuck like this?"

Brom offered him a sympathetic look. "Eragon, whatever happened to you in there is probably something that cannot be reversed without a very intricate spell and powerful spell casters. It will take some adjusting to, but for now let's just be grateful that you came out of there with your mind fully intact. Very few people have fought a being like that and come out of it in one piece."

"You look somewhat like an elf now, as well," Arya cut in. "If and when you travel to Du Weldenvarden to complete your training as a Rider, you'll be accepted more easily because of that."

"Will I?" Eragon wasn't so sure. "I don't look like a human and I don't look like a full elf either from what you're saying. I look like a mixture. A hybrid."

"What of your magic?" Brom asked. "Your strength? You said you broke free of your chains in Gil'ead. Have they been enhanced?"

He nodded, but looked troubled. "Yes. I feel faster and lighter now, too."

Brom chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment. "Garzhvog, could you humor us with a spar? I don't think I'd be a challenge for him at this point and Arya is still recovering."

The elf shot him a glare, but Brom was utterly unfazed and returned the look with a stubborn squint. "Don't give me that. You _know_ I'm right and when you've recovered you can beat Eragon and Murtagh into the dust to assess them for yourself. For now, rest and get over it."

She bristled at the tone and looked like she wanted to retort, but refrained and only sat more stiffly.

Garzhvog seemed amused by their antics and stood up, brandishing his axe. "I wouldn't mind stretching a bit before we sleep."

Eragon nodded and got up with him, unsheathing Undbitr. He and Garzhvog walked several paces away from the camp and the dragons. It was a small area, but big enough for a short fight. After Eragon cast wards around their blades, the pair stood several paces apart and faced each other silently.

They studied their opponent, searching for a weak point to attack. Eragon began to slowly stalk back and forth, brandishing Undbitr in his hand casually, but he paused for a second. The blade felt far too light in his hand. It was less like wielding a sword and more like holding a stick. Frowning, he attributed its unexpected lightness to his enhanced physical strength.

Garzhvog saw his troubled expression and lunged. Eragon's focus jerked back to the Urgal as he swung his axe in a sideways motion towards him. He brought up Undbitr to block with the flat of the blade, putting his weight behind it as they collided. Even with his enhanced strength, the impact was heavy and produced a loud clanging sound.

Eragon's feet slid through the dirt as he was pushed back by the overwhelming might Garzhvog commanded, but he sought to counter and rapidly ducked under the swing, retracting Undbitr's defense at the same time. The Kull's swing went too far and opened up his guard, allowing Eragon to lunge in and ram the pommel of his blade into Garzhvog's belly.

Garzhvog grunted in pain and jerked the handle of his axe at Eragon's head, forcing the boy to leap back. He ended up reeling back too far thanks to his newfound strength and almost collided with a tree trunk as Garzhvog growled at him. "You're certainly stronger than you were before."

Eragon shifted on his feet and darted to one side, flitting past several trees as fast as he could. He emerged with intentions to be on Garzhvog's side, but found that he was actually behind the massive Kull, who whipped around with a surprised expression. Eragon cursed his own unfamiliar speed as he charged the Urgal and made to stab at him.

The axe came up and easily blocked the attack, but it wasn't like hitting a wall this time. Garzhvog actually had to put a little force behind his defense. Eragon weaved under the Urgal's guard and jumped up before Garzhvog knew what was happening, striking the Urgal in the jaw with an uppercut from his left fist.

Garzhvog bellowed and made to grab Eragon, who danced away from him as quickly as possible, but he stumbled and nearly tripped. The Kull took the chance to charge him again, head lowered as if to strike Eragon with his horns.

Feeling inexplicably light, Eragon ran at him, grabbed Garzhvog by the horns, and launched himself over the Kull's back. As he flipped forward, he slashed Undbitr and managed to strike him in the back, though it was only a glancing blow thanks to his own speed. Unfortunately, the impact threw him off-balance and he landed awkwardly on the ground, twisting his ankle.

Eragon crouched low with a growl of pain and before he could recover, Garzhvog spun back around and got one massive hand around the back of Eragon's neck. The Kull dropped to his knee and shoved his opponent's face into the dirt, pinning him down.

"That's enough," Brom called.

Garzhvog let him up and Eragon pushed himself into a sitting position, spitting dirt and glaring at his pained ankle. He held his hand to it and snapped. "Waise heill."

It took only a few seconds for the injury to recover since it was mild, but Eragon was feeling tired enough that the drain made him slightly drowsy.

Garzhvog helped him up as Brom studied Eragon from the fire, smoking his pipe. "I think we can safely say your strength is similar or equal to an elf's, although you lack the natural ease that comes with experience. You'll get used to it in time, but for now keep the extravagant stuff to a minimum. Next time you might break your ankle and those are just _fun_ to heal."

"Yeah, I figured that out myself," Eragon muttered, putting some weight on his foot to test it. There was a slight twinge, but it would be okay. "So now what? Where do we go?"

He was getting uncomfortable being in the limelight again. Brom sucked in another puff of smoke and blew it out slowly after a moment. "Our only option from what I can see is to brave the Hadarac. If we skirt the edge of it until we're well away from the Empire, we might have a chance at evading any person who comes our way."

Arya raised an eyebrow. "You want to cross the desert? It's bulk encompasses the Empire twice over. It is as large and expansive as Du Weldenvarden or the Beor Mountains."

"I'm not talking about cutting through the very center of it, unless you wish us to die from exposure and heat stroke," Brom retorted. "Skirting the edge of it is our safest option. Galbatorix will not expect us to take such a treacherous road and as long as we stay close enough to the edge of the desert, we can exit it at brief intervals to recover our strength before we set out again. If we do it right, we could make it to the Varden within two months."

She didn't look entirely happy about it, but Arya relented.

Brom grunted and went on. "In any case, we have to get the last egg safely to the Varden at all costs. A third Rider and dragon would be crucial to fighting Galbatorix in the upcoming war."

Their Kull companion gained an interested look. "And how does one find the Rider of a dragon egg?"

"Luck," Brom admitted. "Truth be told, we have no idea who the Rider might be. They might not even be born or they could be too old. Dragons will wait forever if they have to in order to hatch for the right person. They can use magic in their eggs to keep their bodies in stasis until the time is right to hatch. We'll parade the egg through the Varden's younger members and see if the egg reacts to any of them."

"Might've used all of our luck when Saphira and Thorn hatched for us," Murtagh remarked jokingly.

"I hope not," the old man muttered. "We could use a third Rider. Galbatorix has at least two dragons on his side at the moment, albeit they're twisted and evil beasts now. A third dragon on our side would even the odds somewhat."

"And if it doesn't hatch to someone in the Varden?" Garzhvog asked. "What then?"

"Then we take the egg to Du Weldenvarden and parade it through the cities of my people," Arya responded. "The first Dragon Riders were elves. There's just as good a chance that it might hatch for one of us as well."

Brom nodded. "There's always that possibility. But for now, let's focus on getting away from the Empire. We can worry about who the egg hatches for when we're not in constant danger."

* * *

The next day, Brom and Murtagh had to sneak into a small town to purchase some traveling clothes for Arya- she could hardly go around wearing what was left of her old outfit and Eragon's tunic, after all. It was incredibly risky seeing as half the Empire was looking for them, but it was necessary.

Fortunately, they were in and out of the town within an hour and Arya now bore a simple outfit of dark leather, concealed underneath a similarly dark cloak with a hood should she need to hide her pointed ears. Brom had gotten a cloak for Eragon as well seeing as he now bore elfin features.

Eragon practically threw the hood over his head the moment he got it and barely took it off since. Murtagh wondered at that, for he even kept it on when it got dark out and made things harder to see, but Eragon would not remove it. Saphira shot him worried looks when they settled for the night, furthering Murtagh's unease.

He decided to approach the younger man, making to set his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"What is it, Murtagh?" Eragon asked, not even facing him. Murtagh paused with a frown- both at Eragon's tone and how he'd heard Murtagh walking up to him so quietly.

"Are you okay?"

"No," he growled quietly. His ears were _killing_ him. It was as though he could hear every little thing in minute detail for a not insignificant distance. Little sounds were amplified and big sounds felt like shrieking in his ears.

"What's wrong?"

"You're too loud, that's what's wrong!"

Murtagh stared at him in confusion. "I'm barely talking."

"Well, talk quieter, then!"

Brom glanced over at them from the horses. "Everything all right over there?"

Murtagh shook his head, unsure what to say, but unwilling to provoke Eragon further. Brom raised an eyebrow. "Eragon, you'll feel better when you get something to eat. Just wait it out."

"Garzhvog's already on his way back," Eragon snapped, jabbing his finger in a seemingly random direction of the forest. "He shot a buck in the leg and waited until it tripped over a tree root. Now he's trampling back to camp with it like an elephant!"

Murtagh strained to hear any of the things Eragon had said, but he couldn't even hear Garzhvog's footfalls. "I don't hear anything."

"That's because you don't have an elf's ears," Arya sighed, walking away from Saphira, Thorn, and the green dragon egg that was resting between Saphira's paws. The elf walked over to Eragon and crouched in front of him, then lifted her hands to cover his ears- or rather, cover his hands that were covering his ears. His eyes were squeezed shut as he tried to force away the pain in his head, so he flinched slightly when she touched him. She murmured something softly in the Ancient Language and a few moments later, the onslaught of noise ceased somewhat.

Arya removed her hands and studied his face as he opened his eyes slowly and hesitantly took his hands off his head. "That should filter the noise somewhat, but you'll have to get accustomed to it. The sounds of the forest are tame compared to the sounds of a town or a city."

Eragon nodded, letting out a long breath of relief as the noise faded to tolerable levels. It was still louder than he was used to, but he could deal with it now. "Thank you."

The elf merely nodded and stood back up, returning to the egg and dragons.

The camp was quiet for a time as Garzhvog returned and began to clean the deer, much to Arya's distaste. Neither Eragon or Murtagh thought on it, but the elf preferred to eat berries she'd found nearby. Brom shot her an apologetic look, but she shook her head.

Suddenly, the sounds of the forest were interrupted by a sharp cracking sound.

They all froze, wondering if something had somehow managed to sneak up on them. Eragon's hearing might have been dulled somewhat, but Arya's was as sharp as ever and for a moment, even she was perplexed as to what the noise had been. The second crack and a startled hiss from Saphira gave them a direction to point towards.

The emerald dragon egg between her paws was _hatching_.

Brom's face blanched to a gaunt white. _"Arya."_

The elf looked stunned as she tore her gaze from the cracking egg to Brom, who nodded slightly. Arya swallowed and walked over to it, crouching by the egg as the dragon within squeaked and fought to be free. Saphira's and Thorn's heads hovered over the hatching baby, while their Riders hung back with Garzhvog, curious, but unwilling to intrude on the moment.

A delicate, green head poked out of the shell amidst the silver moonlight of their camp and with one last, indignant squeak, the dragon tore its way free of the confining egg. They waited as the dragon inspected its surroundings, first spotting Arya, then twisting its head to look up at Saphira and Thorn, who stared down at it with low croons to comfort the infant.

The dragon skittered around the camp for a few minutes, taking everything in. It's eyes fixed on Brom and the horses for a moment, but it passed him by quickly. The dragon squeaked at the sight of Garzhvog, who was nearly as tall as Saphira and Thorn, and hesitated in its step, but relaxed when the massive Kull slowly sat down. It flicked its tongue out at him curiously, then skittered towards Murtagh and Eragon. The two brothers warily watched it, all too aware of what those sharp little teeth could do.

Fortunately, the little one wasn't in the mood for much biting- although it did seem eager to tear into what was left of the deer. But before it did so, the baby skittered back to Arya and when she reached for it, the dragon bumped its snout against her left palm. Arya fell back with a shocked cry and lay on the ground by Saphira and Thorn, immobilized.

Garzhvog stood up in alarm, but Brom waved him down. "It's fine, this is normal."

Eragon let out a breath as the baby dragon crawled onto Arya's belly, circled a few times, then lay down with its head resting comfortably on her chest so it could watch her face. "That's it…The last egg's hatched."

"Aye," Brom agreed as he walked over to Arya, gently shifting her so she was a little more comfortable without disturbing the baby dragon. "Now we've just got to make Riders of the three of you."

* * *

 **A/N: Right, so quick question for my readers- Would you all prefer me to work on this story regularly or my Harry Potter story? Either way, I'll be updating both of them, but one will be a bit more infrequent than the other. I am sorry this came out so late, I've had a lot of stuff going on and I can't seem to make a lot of headway into the projects I really want to work on right now. Thoughts?**

 **Also, I am really tempted to update Brothers By Dragons more regularly than Serpentine because just the other day, an amazing Inheritance Cycle fic, Reversed Life, was taken down from the site along with all the other stories written by its author, Rainxoxo. It actually broke my heart because I really loved that story and its take on the Inheritance Cycle, and I feel like I could match it in quality with enough time and effort.**

 **As ever, please review and thanks for reading! Next chapter will be out soon!**


	14. Race to the Varden

_Chapter 14: Race to the Varden_

They traveled as swiftly as they could bear from the moment Arya's dragon hatched from his egg. Brom deemed it now necessary that they all make it to the Varden as quickly as possible- he dared not risk all three Riders and their dragons in the Empire's lands any longer. The spars and magic lessons continued for Eragon and Murtagh, but in smaller amounts so they could retain enough energy to travel more.

Eragon was slowly getting used to his changed body, but he still preferred having his hood on and had to learn the spell Arya used to muffle sound for him to hear properly. It would be a while before he was completely used to his enhanced senses. He was doing better when he sparred against Garzhvog and with Murtagh once even disarmed the Kull, but Garzhvog was a talented warrior and he more often than not defeated the two boys with his greater strength and experience. Even with the speed and reflexes of an elf, Eragon had no advantage over him- merely improved odds.

It wasn't long before they reached the Hadarac Desert. After slipping past the town of Bullridge amidst the ever decreasing forest and settlements, the group found the edge of the sands and began traversing across it.

Brom insisted they begin traveling at early morn, while it was still cool outside.

"The desert will be at its hottest come noon," the old man explained. "Out best time to travel will be during the morning and evenings. We skirt the edge of the desert- we do not cross it directly lest we have a town to avoid, of which there are precious few now that we've passed Bullridge. I dare not let us stop. Galbatorix will no doubt have sent his servants after us."

Garzhvog grunted. "There will be some confusion about where we've gone. Since we rescued her," he jerked his thumb at Arya, who listened impassively. "They might assume we've gone north to Du Weldenvarden. There'll be men headed in every direction trying to find a hint of where we've gone."

"If he spreads his forces so thin, he'll undoubtedly find us eventually," Brom admitted. "But the odds of his most powerful servants, Morzan or Durza, being in the right place at the right time will be greatly reduced. If I had to guess, I think he sent Morzan north to cut us off from Du Weldenvarden. Galbatorix knows if we ever got there, he'd never touch the dragons again. Durza may not yet be resurrected, so his whereabouts are unknown, but he's likely preparing for an assault against the Varden."

Arya's eyes shifted to Brom. "How so?"

Brom nodded to Garzhvog. "By means of the Urgals under his command. Galbatorix would not send his own soldiers all the way to Farther Dur- he may be mad, but as much as I hate to admit it, he's a clever tactician. He won't abandon the majority of his city's defenses to strike down the Varden when they're already on the verge of collapse. Durza's control of the Urgals is merely an opportunity for him to remove two of his adversaries- he likely hopes the Urgals and the Varden will deal irreparable damage to one another. Two birds with one stone, as it were."

Murtagh cut in. "So what do we do? If the Varden are about to die, should we not make for the elves? Surely the Varden are in no position to fight then entire race of Urgals, especially if there are Kull like Garzhvog within their ranks."

"The dwarves will help them," Brom replied, stroking his beard. "If we get there in time, the odds will be improved further. We'll have to cut the Urgal army off, rally the Varden's forces, and mount a defense somehow."

"If the Urgals are being controlled by Durza, the answer's simple, isn't it?" Eragon said, leaning against Saphira's leg. "We have to kill him."

Arya glanced at him with narrowed eyes. "It is not as easy as you make it sound."

"No, but he's right," Brom said begrudgingly. "Durza's death would likely stop the Urgals in their tracks and make them return to their barrows. If we're to topple Galbatorix, we must face Durza and he must die."

* * *

Traveling across the Hadarac Desert was difficult. Although there were no people to avoid for the first two weeks, it was still an intense journey. The temperatures soared during the day, baking them with relentless exposure to the sun. The dragons were the only ones who seemed to enjoy it, but even they drank massive amounts of water whenever they had to stop. Fortunately, Brom knew a spell that brought water up from underground- it took time and effort, but bringing water up for all of them to drink became a stamina exercise for Eragon and Murtagh as they days went on.

Hunting was only possible when they stopped during the heat of the day and moved away from the edge of the desert, towards the scrublands. Garzhvog didn't have much luck hunting with such little cover, but Eragon and Murtagh had an easier time of it- partially thanks to the bows Garzhvog had helped Eragon make some time ago. It was necessary for Arya's dragon, who was still so young and needed to feed almost constantly.

The infant dragon took to traveling in Arya's bag and for his safety, Brom decided it would be best to keep him with the horses when they travelled. Arya had no intention of leaving her new partner, so she was always riding a horse with Brom and Eragon or Murtagh, as one of the brothers would ride their dragons while Garzhvog ran with them.

It was a long two weeks of traveling that never seemed to end, but as they neared the Beor Mountains, one thing became apparent; they were no longer alone.

But one threat in particular was closer than the others.

The riders on the ground didn't see or hear a thing, exhausted as they were, until Murtagh gave a mental shout from the sky upon Thorn. _Riders! There are horse riders bearing down on you from the north!_

Brom swore. "Move!"

They urged the horses to run as fast as they could and Garzhvog picked up the pace, but they were all exhausted and the horses chasing them were fresh with energy. Before a half hour had passed, a group of bandits had caught up with them. It was a sizable number- thirty of them encircled the group with ease as Snowfire, Cadoc, and Tornac became to tired to outrun them. Garzhvog slowed and brandished his axe, snarling threateningly at the men as they trapped the group.

Brom was giving out mental orders as fast as he could. _Murtagh, stay up there! There are archers- do not risk Saphira and Thorn's safety! We can handle them. Keep Arya's dragon safe and the four of us can stop them if I can't convince them to leave us be._

The apparent leader of the bandits made his way forward, a smug look on his face. "This isn't the usual ragtag band we find. An old man, a boy, a woman, and a _Kull?_ Well, I don't really care who you are. You'll all be sold for a good price, except maybe the old man. The Kull will probably only be sold to be killed for sport, but the we'll find good buyers for the boy and woman, I'm sure."

"We don't want any trouble," Brom growled at him. "If you know what's best for you, you should be on your way."

"Slaves have no right to speak to their masters," the man replied with a chuckle. "You're all my property now as far as I'm concerned."

One of the bandits suddenly grabbed the back of Eragon's hood and ripped it off his head. He spotted the pointed ears and exclaimed loudly. "Torkenbrand, this one 'ere's an elf!"

"An elf?" Torkenbrand brought his horse over and inspected Eragon's face, ignoring the glare the boy gave him. "Well, isn't this a surprise! The King himself will pay a high price for an elf! We'll be rich, gentlemen!"

The slavers howled in excitement. Eragon felt his eardrums ready to explode- even with the spell to dampen the onslaught of noise, it was too much. He was exhausted, irritated, his skull was _throbbing_ from the noise…

Brom gave Tokenbrand one final glare. "This is your last warning. You turn away or you die."

"Save it, old man," Torkenbrand scoffed as he trotted over to Arya and inspected her as well. "Another elf! Twice the money! She's rather pretty, eh, boys? Perhaps we should offer the lady our hospitality?"

The slavers once more laughed, nearly splitting Eragon's head with the overwhelming sound until he wanted to scream.

He snapped.

Torkenbrand's torso exploded in a spray of blood as Undbitr severed him from the left edge of neck to his right hip. Before the slavers even realized what was happening, Eragon shoved the corpse off of its horse and leapt into the fray of bandits to kill another, and another, and another. Snowfire reared up and let out a panicked bay.

Garzhvog roared and swung his axe at the nearest bandit. Brom brandished his staff, calming Snowfire, and Arya unsheathed her sword, but the rest of the bandits were already fleeing in terror.

As they fled, Eragon tackled another one off of his horse, pinning the screaming man to the ground. Brom opened his mouth to stop him, but Eragon slashed with his sword and decapitated the bandit with such force that his head skipped over the sand for a short distance. The boy's eyes flew up towards the fleeing bandits, his face set in a snarl as though he were about to chase them.

"Enough!" Brom roared.

Eragon flinched at the sudden, booming noise and spun towards Brom, his eyes red and pained. "Will you _stop_ shouting?!"

"Eragon," Brom said, grabbing Cadoc's reigns and leading the horse around the corpses and over to his master. "We need to move."

"We should kill them," Eragon spat. "They've probably captured people from the Varden and sold them as slaves. If we chase them now, they won't escape us."

"You've done enough," the old man told him. "They won't be back."

"I agree. I still smell their fear," Garzhvog grunted, a bestial grin on his face. Arya only watched the teenager warily.

More than one of the bandits had messed themselves after seeing their leaders and fellow riders die so violently, it seemed. The stench was fading, but it was still in the air and Eragon shook his head to clear it from his nostrils. He glanced down and grimaced. The front of his cloaked was covered in Torkenbrand's blood.

 _Little one?_ Saphira touched his mind quietly, sending him soothing thoughts.

Eragon shook his head again. _I'm fine._

 _You are not._

She was right. He wasn't fine- he'd slaughtered the men without hesitating, wouldn't have hesitated to _continue_ killing them, and that knowledge sent a terrifying thrill into his stomach. What was he becoming?

* * *

They camped at the foot of the Beor Mountains that night. Brom glanced around wearily and grunted once he deemed their location safe. "Keep your wits about you. The creatures that live in these mountains would be able to kill even Saphira and Thorn. The last thing we need right now is for a pack of Shrrg or Nagra to find us. Or worse, an Urzhad."

"What are those?" Murtagh asked.

Brom smiled at him dangerously. "A Shrrg is a wolf the size of a horse. Nagra are wild boar, but they are even bigger than Shrrg and arguably more dangerous."

"Urzhad are bears," Garzhvog interrupted suddenly, garnering Murtagh's attention to him. "Giant cave bears. The largest boars are the size of a human house. They would dwarf Saphira and Thorn right now. I killed one once."

Murtagh's brow rose. "You killed one?"

The Kull grunted. "It wasn't full grown. Only the size of four Shrrg. But killing it gave me the the title of chief amongst my people."

Murtagh nodded slowly. "I'm sleeping by you tonight."

Garzhvog grinned and laughed deeply.

Arya was busy feeding her dragon, who was tired from all the day's excitement, but she glanced up around the camp and frowned after a moment. "Where is Eragon?"

Brom paused and did a head count. Saphira was there, but she also lifted her head and glanced about when Arya noted the absence of her Rider. The old man scanned the edge of camp and froze when he realized that Undbitr was on the ground with the teenager's pack. "Eragon?"

Saphira was up on her feet in an instant, hissing in agitation. _Eragon? Where are you?_

Garzhvog stood up and grabbed his axe. "I'll find him."

"No," Brom shook his head, taking his staff and sword before walking into the woods. "I'll do it. Stay in the camp. I don't want anyone to get lost in these mountains."

* * *

Eragon had wandered off from camp, following the distant echo of water trickling somewhere. He stumbled blindly through the forest, just trying to find the source of the water. He wanted to get the blood off of his clothing- the stench of iron on his skin was starting to make him feel sick.

He finally found the mountain stream and knelt beside it as he removed his tunic. He shivered in the cold mountain air and hissed when his hands plunged his tunic into the stream, which was icy to his skin. He squeezed and rubbed the material of his tunic, trying to get the dried blood off of it. Eragon cleaned it for several minutes in silence, ignorant to anything else around him.

He pulled his tunic from the river and looked it over, and although he could still smell iron on it, the scent was fading and all the blood was gone. Eragon realized putting it on would probably freeze his body and resigned himself to a cold walk back to camp. He looked up, ready to stand, but stilled in place as his gaze lifted.

On the other side of the creek, not ten feet from him, was the biggest wolf he'd ever seen in his entire life.

Eragon had encountered wolves in the Spine when he hunted- they were fierce beasts, but they gave him a respectable distance as long as he gave them the same respect.

This wolf was nothing like the ones in the Spine. It stood taller than Cadoc, with its head raised it was probably shoulder height to Saphira. Fur as black as night made it seem deceptively massive amidst the shadows of the trees, where the ebony pelt bled into the shade and gave the Shrrg an even larger appearance. It stared back at him with glowing silver eyes, ears pricked, and a long, bushy tail swishing slowly behind it.

Eragon stood up slowly, never taking his eyes off the beast as he swept the area about him with a mental probe. Luckily for him, it seemed the Shrrg was alone, but that didn't mean he was out of trouble yet. He gently touched the wolf's consciousness with his own, trying to tell the beast that he wasn't a threat. He didn't want to have to fight or kill this creature- he'd had enough killing for today.

The Shrrg's ears twitched as he touched its mind and it sniffed the air, trying to catch his scent. Eragon swallowed as the massive predator stalked closer, placing its paws almost silently in the river to close the distance. He almost forgot how to breathe as the Shrrg's snout stopped mere inches from his face and those intelligent silver eyes burned into his brown ones.

It was not angry, nor was it hunting him, though it did wonder what he was doing here and why he smelled of blood. The Shrrg dipped its snout to inspect his tunic, snorting loudly in disappointment when it found there was no food to be had. Its head came back up to inspect him; it had never seen a creature that looked quite like Eragon before. Since he wasn't giving the Shrrg any reason to feel threatened, it took its time inspecting him.

Eragon continued to send the Shrrg his thoughts while it studied him, explaining as best he could that he was just passing through with his pack and that they did not mean to intrude on the beast's territory. The Shrrg's ears flicked at that; it cared not for their intrusion as long as they didn't take any of the prey- and if they did, the Shrrg fully expected them to leave some for it. Its wet nose prodded Eragon's shoulder as it got another good sniff of him.

The Shrrg was eventually satisfied that it had discovered what it could about Eragon and took a few steps back, returning to the other side of the river and giving him one last backward glance before bounding off into the forest with hardly a sound. For such a huge creature, the lack of noise was massively disconcerting.

Eragon slowly sat down, taking in a long breath as he felt the adrenaline of the encounter fade away. He jumped at the sound of twigs cracking softly behind him and spun around. Relief filled him when he realized it was only Brom.

The old man had not taken his eyes off the spot where the Shrrg disappeared. "Having fun?"

"More like having a heart attack, I think," Eragon replied shakily, closing his eyes for a few moments as he caught his breath.

Brom slowly came up to Eragon and knelt beside him, fully alert as he set a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed firmly. "You'd be best off staying close to us in the mountains and not wandering off again. I think you got the message across, but where there's one Shrrg, there are often more. He'll be following us for a while, I think. If he has a pack, we'll have to be extra vigilant."

The old man chanced a look at Eragon. "Why did you leave the camp? You didn't even take Undbitr with you."

Eragon shook his head. "I wasn't thinking. I just…I wanted to get the blood off my tunic. I couldn't stand smelling iron any longer."

Brom's face creased in a weary way. "I understand."

"Do you?" He replied shortly. "That bandit- Torkenbrand- he didn't even think I was human. He called me an elf before he even looked at Arya. Other humans don't even recognize me as one of their own."

"Eragon," he said softly, bringing one hand behind the boy's head and leaning him into Brom's shoulder. "I cannot change what happened. None of us can. But you're still Eragon, are you not? Your appearance will not affect how I see you, nor Murtagh, Garzhvog, or Arya. Saphira still loves you, does she not? You may look more elf than man now, but you are in many ways still a naive boy with a tendency for reckless actions."

Eragon's lips twitched upward at that. He willingly leaned into Brom's shoulder. Not since Garrow's care had he felt like this- like a child, seeking the comfort of a parent.

"Come," Brom said at last. "If we don't get you back to camp and near a fire, you'll freeze dressed like that."

They made their way back to camp in silence, but it was a comfortable kind of quiet. Eragon could feel with his thoughts spread out that the Shrrg from before was following them, but it kept a fair distance and never felt aggressive. He told Brom and it was decided they'd keep watch throughout the night.

* * *

 _You stupid boy!_

Saphira had a few choice words for him once he returned, shirtless and freezing and wet, but Eragon ignored them for once and just curled up next to her warm belly. The dragon, exasperated as she was, kept her scolding to a minimum seeing as Brom had already told him not to wander off again and draped her wing over Eragon like a canopy. Everyone was too tired for sparring that night, so they all curled up around the campfire and waited in silence for sleep to take them.

Garzhvog opted to stay awake to keep an eye out for any…unfriendly wildlife. Though when Brom and Eragon told him about the Shrrg, he made a low laugh.

"If he decided not to eat you, he must not have thought you looked edible," Garzhvog grinned at him, looking Eragon up and down. "I don't blame him."

Eragon rolled his eyes at the Urgal, who only continued to laugh softly.

As he lay against Saphira, trying to sleep, his dragon partner stirred slightly and lifted her wing up after a few moments. Eragon blinked, squinting against the light of the campfire and realized Arya was standing near Saphira with her dragon in her arms. He was almost too large for her to hold, but didn't seem willing to release his Rider and her body's warmth.

"May I rest here with you?" She asked quietly. "He is cold."

Her dragon was shivering a little, unused to the cold mountain air after being in the desert for so long. The chill here was even colder than it was in the Spine where Saphira and Thorn had grown up and it wasn't even snowing yet. Eragon took pity on the little dragon and nodded, shifting further along Saphira's flank to give Arya some space.

The elf took a spot just behind Saphira's front leg. Her dragon found a place between Saphira and Arya, making a contented vibration in his throat akin to a cat's purr as he found the warmth he sought. Saphira sent amused thoughts to Eragon as she let her wing fall back down, shielding them from the wind.

Eragon turned away from Arya and closed his eyes again with a sigh. The elf was silent for a long while and he almost fell asleep until she spoke, her voice soft.

"You fought well today."

Eragon's brow creased into a frown, his eyes still closed. "More a slaughter than a fight."

"It was necessary."

"That doesn't make me feel any better about it."

Arya glanced at him. "Do you regret it?"

"No," he answered almost immediately. "That's what bothers me."

"You must become accustomed to killing, Eragon," she said. "It's something you cannot avoid in war."

"Something tells me I already am," he retorted. "I didn't even hesitate when I killed Torkenbrand and his men today. I didn't hesitate when I killed the guards at Gil'ead. I know it was necessary, but…I never thought killing people would be so easy for me. I…it frightens me to imagine what kind of person I'm becoming if I'm capable of that."

Arya was quiet for a while. "When I killed someone for the first time, it did bother me. Taking life is not something elves find…appealing. I spent some time reflecting on it and realized that I was being foolish. Had I not killed them, they would have killed me. Violence is sometimes necessary in war. But as gruesome as it may be, it is not what I live for. It is something I resort to only when it must be done."

He listened to her silently. Eragon felt a little more…at ease, knowing that Arya had gone through something similar. It gave him some small hope that maybe, he wasn't becoming some killer without reason.

"Think on it, Eragon," she continued, lifting a hand to stroke her dragon's back. "Do not dwell on it constantly, but face it when you are ready. There is no need to trouble yourself when you are weary."

"…thank you," he murmured in response after a short while.

Arya said nothing, but after some time, Eragon heard her begin to sing in the Ancient Language. Though he did not catch most of what she said, for her knowledge of the Ancient Language was far greater than his own, her voice brought to him such peace and content that his eyes slid close without him even meaning to. Before he knew it, he was sound asleep.

* * *

They made their way up the river towards the lake of Kostha-merna, and a hidden waterfall which Brom claimed was a secret entrance to the Varden's stronghold. Although their pace was as hurried as it had been across the desert, it was slowed somewhat by the mountain's difficult terrain and the need to watch out for aggressive wildlife. Throughout their journey to the lake, Eragon was constantly aware of the Shrrg he'd met trailing behind them.

Murtagh had jokingly called the Shrrg Eragon's "friend". Eragon was not sure that was the word for what the Shrrg was, but it never did attack them. He supposed that meant they were on decent terms with the huge predator, at least. Saphira had expressed an interest in finding the Shrrg to inspect it herself, but the wolf never closed the gap between them, even at night when seeing its black pelt was nearly impossible.

"I'll do the talking when we get to the Varden," Brom told them as they neared the lake. "They'll trust me, but they'll wonder about Garzhvog's presence amongst us. Let me explain, do not do anything rash, and all will be well."

Murtagh frowned. "How do you know all of these people? I didn't ask how you knew Arya before because there wasn't time, but you're acquainted with the Varden and their location? How?"

It _was_ a rather unusual thing, Brom's knowledge, Eragon reflected.

Brom gave him an even look. "I will explain when we are safely behind those walls and not being followed by an army of Urgals. Or haven't you forgotten?"

He had a point. Saphira and Thorn had spotted the Urgal army approaching from the Hadarac Desert, and they were rapidly gaining ground on the exhausted group of travelers. Just as Brom had expected, the King had sent his Urgal slaves to attack the Varden and destroy one another, though he hadn't anticipated them to catch up so quickly.

When they finally reached the lake and the waterfall that lay against the mountain's breast, Brom led them along the edge to the side of the cascade and lifted his staff, about to hit the stone, when Murtagh shouted. "Urgals!"

The group spun towards the entrance to the lake to see a mass of Urgals approaching, though they had to travel in single file to make their way around the edge. Brom swore and hammered the stone with his staff. Two furious bugles split the air as Saphira and Thorn plunged into Kostha-merna and roared at the Urgal forces threateningly, giving them pause.

Arya's dragon had lifted its head to see what was going on, but quickly ducked back into her pack upon seeing the Urgals. Garzhvog took a position at the back of the group, readying his axe and bellowing viciously at his kin. But they came anyway, despite the attack from Saphira and Thorn. Though they were momentarily confused by the sight of another Urgal facing them down, the Kull at the lead got over it quickly and charged Garzhvog.

Before the Kull could stab at Garzhvog with a spear longer than any Eragon had ever seen, a blur of darkness lunged from the rock wall above them and buried massive fangs into the Kull's jugular, spraying blood into the air. The Urgal screamed as the Shrrg shook him violently, rending flesh and bone with its powerful jaws before hurling it into the lake. The Shrrg let out a thunderous howl as blood dripped from its sharp ivories, stopping the army in its tracks.

The sound of stone grinding made Eragon whip his head back to the waterfall and Brom scowled, hauling him and Murtagh behind him. "Get in! Now!"

They scrambled after Brom as the Urgals got over their momentary hesitation and charged the Shrrg. Eragon tapped into its mind in an instant and pleaded for the beast to follow them- it was just defending its territory from these intruders, but it could not hope to kill more than a few before it was killed itself. The black wolf snarled in frustration before bounding after Garzhvog into the cave. Saphira and Thorn lunged out of the lake after it just as the cavern opening was sealed shut to the Urgal army.

Eragon heard shouting and the twanging of bows around them, but the sound of the Urgals and the waterfall were muffled behind the wall of rock. He stood up, finding that before them was a grim mixture of men and dwarves, at the head of which was a bald, beardless man with purple and gold robes. He was taller than all the other humans and seemed rather perturbed with the dwarf closest to him, who scowled back.

"I did not give the order for you to open the entrance," the man snapped.

The dwarf looked near irate. "They would've been killed! Besides, are you blind? That is the dragon-egg courier, Arya! We thought her dead, but yes, let's just leave her to die against an army of Urgals! The elf Queen will forgive us for that, surely!"

Brom interrupted them with a cough. He looked more than a little annoyed as he growled at them. "If you're all quite finished, I'd like to speak with Ajihad and Hrothgar as soon as possible."

The bald man straightened and looked at Brom steadily. "And why would Ajihad and Hrothgar want to speak with you?"

Brom looked rather impatient. "Oh, no reason. Just an army of Urgals on your doorstep and three new Dragon Riders on your side."

"I see two dragons, not much in the way of Riders, a Shrrg, and an Urgal with you," the man replied, sneering at Garzhvog, who set his axe in place upon his back. "As it stands, I should have this…brute killed on the spot. The rest of his kin are already falling to our arrows as we speak."

Eragon unsheathed Undbitr and strode between the man and Garzhvog. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"An elf who defends an Urgal, now there's something I haven't seen today," the man snorted. "I'll have to probe your mind to make sure you weren't captured by the King."

The dwarf stamped his boot. "Blast that, we have to send for Ajihad and Hrothgar! We have dragons here, the elf ambassador whom we thought was dead, and an army of Urgals banging on our front door!"

"Do not dare challenge my authority again, Orik!" The man snapped. "I will not tolerate you insubordination any longer!"

"Enough!" Arya declared, tired of the display. "I speak for all of my companions when I say none of us are against you. Even the Kull is an ally- he brought to us valuable information and has been an asset in our journey here. His mind has been probed and these Riders are your allies. Ajihad and Hrothgar must be told what's happened. There is no time for pointless bickering."

The bald man looked sour, but she held his gaze stiffly and without hesitation. He snapped his gaze to Garzhvog, and then to the Shrrg. "And that…beast?"

Eragon glanced at the Shrrg, who's hackles had risen along its spine, but had opted not to attack. He could hear a low growl in the back of its throat and reached out to it with his mind, reassuring the Shrrg that it would be safe here. "He's not your enemy, either. He helped us escape the Urgals."

"Very well. Keep it at your heel or I will not be held responsible for what happens to it," the man sniffed. "Take them to Ajihad!"

* * *

 **A/N: I really just felt like writing this story today and getting another chapter out to keep the ball rolling. I know it's not much, but I hope you enjoy it. Am I rushing things a bit? Maybe, but I really want to keep the story from getting stagnant, that way I don't just randomly stop for another nine months -_- It's been a rough day, I needed this. Sorry if you were hoping for a chapter of Challenger, but that is the next story on the board for an update.**

 **Also yes, the Shrrg is a bit of a reference to Rainxoxo's story "To move Forward" that was taken down. I have no intention of just taking what they did and slapping it into my story, but I would like to try and remember their work here to some degree since I'm still sad their work is all gone...yeah.**

 **Anyway, please review and thanks for reading~**


	15. A Dance of Blades

_Chapter 15: A Dance of Blades_

The group of weary travelers were led through a massive, perfectly cut stone hall for what seemed like over an hour. Several of the Varden's soldiers were guiding their horses while the rest of them walked, following the bald man, Brom, and Arya. Eragon and Murtagh remained close to Saphira and Thorn, and Garzhvog remained nearest Murtagh throughout the journey. The Kull did his best to ignore the glares of the dwarves and men, but the two brothers did not and kept a wary eye out in case anyone decided to attack their companion.

The black Shrrg stalked alongside Eragon, ears pricked, body tense, uncertain as to what lay ahead. Its nose constantly twitched as it tried to figure out where it was and only Eragon's constant thoughts and reassurances kept the massive wolf from fleeing.

Saphira took the opportunity to study the Shrrg. Thorn expressed a similar interest in the great black wolf and Eragon smirked when he caught sight of Arya's dragon poking its head out of her pack to study the wolf in a place where it thought it was hidden.

The wolf paused briefly in step as Saphira brushed thoughts with her- for they realized quickly that Eragon had been mistaken about it's gender; it was a young female- before resuming her pace, ears flicking towards the blue dragon now and again as they held some silent communication between them. After a short while, the Shrrg moved a bit closer to Eragon, enclosing him between the black beast and Saphira.

Despite being uncertain of where he was going, Eragon firmly believed he'd never been safer. Most of the Varden soldiers and dwarves regarded him with some wariness, but he refused to take his hood off. He'd hidden his face again under the cowl once they'd started walking, uncomfortable with the stares.

Eragon watched with some weariness as Brom and Arya conversed with the bald man who had met them. He didn't like this particular member of the Varden, Eragon decided. There was something about him that just wasn't right. The soldiers and dwarves around them looked tired, ragged, and grim. This man wore fine robes and held himself with an air of self-perceived importance that Eragon didn't trust.

He heard someone quietly clear their throat to his left, causing Eragon to glance over. It was the dwarf who had opened the doors for them at the waterfall- Orik, if he recalled correctly. He looked as though he wanted to approach Eragon, but there was a giant mass of black fur and teeth between them.

Eragon turned his head to the dwarf to acknowledge him. "I didn't get to thank you for letting us in."

"If I hadn't, the whole purpose of the Varden and dwarves banding together would've been for naught," the dwarf grunted. He looked at the huge Shrrg between them. "Is your…is he tame?"

Eragon snorted. "Definitely not. She just decided to tag along, it seems. But I'm grateful she did- she stalled the Urgals long enough for us to escape."

Orik shook his head and muttered under his breath. "Lovely, a wild Shrrg in our halls. What could possibly go wrong?"

"She'll listen to my dragon and I," Eragon assured Orik, who looked at him in surprise- apparently not expecting Eragon to have heard him. "She won't cause any problems, but she'll need something to eat."

The Shrrg let out a low grumble as if to confirm that statement, shaking herself. Orik nodded. "They'll have something for her and your two dragons."

"Three," he corrected, pointing at the small head still staring back at them from Arya's pack. "He only hatched a couple of weeks ago, but he'll be much larger before too long."

"All the better for when you all fight Galbatorix," Orik said.

Eragon nodded back, choosing not to say anything. The Shrrg's fur brushed his arm, so close had the great wolf moved to him, and he carefully lifted a hand to place it on the beast's shoulder, running his fingers through her thick pelt. The wolf's muscles twitched beneath the unfamiliar touch, but she did not reject it.

Saphira crooned quietly. _She likes you._

 _Thank goodness for that, for if she didn't, she'd have eaten me the other day,_ Eragon only half-joked.

"If you don't mind my asking," Orik sounded curious all of a sudden. "How did you come to be in possession of one of the dragon eggs? You're not an elf I've ever seen before in the Varden. Who are you?"

Eragon's smile dropped some with a sigh. "I'm not an elf. I'm human. Or…I was."

The dwarf frowned deeply. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," Eragon answered wearily. "I was captured for a short time and a spell was cast on me. I don't know what the intention of it was, but I went from looking like a normal human to…whatever I am now. I'm not really an elf, but I am no longer a man, either."

"I don't really understand," Orik said apologetically. "But I'm sorry for asking if it bothers you."

He shook his head. "It's not your fault. You aren't the first to ask and I doubt you'll be the last."

"What about the other Rider, then?" Orik asked him after a moment of quiet. "How do you know him?"

"He's my brother."

That gave the dwarf pause and he stared at Eragon as though looking at him with fresh eyes, truly understanding for a moment that Eragon _was_ , in some way, human, and yet not.

The conversation might have gone on had they not reached their destination at last. Eragon became more alert as Brom fell back from the lead to join him and gestured for Murtagh to move up.

"We're almost to Tronjheim," Brom told them quietly, mentally relaying his directions to the dragons as well. "You'll have to ride Saphira and Thorn into the city. They sent a runner ahead of us, so Ajihad and Hrothgar know we're coming, but everyone is still going to be surprised by you two. Follow Arya down the path, she will lead you to the leaders of the Varden."

"What about Garzhvog and the Shrrg?" Murtagh asked. "If we leave them alone, these people might tear them apart."

Brom shook his head. "Leave that with me. Garzhvog will walk between myself and Thorn. The Shrrg will hug Saphira's left flank as she is now, just keep her calm with your thoughts."

Bright light filled the end of the tunnel as Eragon and Murtagh mounted their dragon partners, nervous and exhilarated int he face of what was to come. What they found waiting for them was like nothing they'd ever imagined.

They'd been led to the throat of a massive volcanic crater, the opening of which was so high up Eragon could not see it- it could have been miles high. Light filtered down from above, brightening the center of the crater, but only touching the rest with a gentle twilight. The other side of the crater was perhaps ten miles off from what he could tell.

The tunnel transformed into a cobblestone path leading to a small, white mountain in the center of the crater. Well, small he called it compared to the crater as a whole, but the mountain itself was over a mile high.

Orik called to him and Murtagh from the ground. "Look well, Riders! None of your kind have lain eyes upon this for over a century. The peak under which we stand is Farthen Dur, and in the center lies our greatest achievement: the mountain-city of Tronjheim, built from the purest marble."

They were engrossed by the sight for a few short moments until they noticed the crowd of people lining the cobblestone pathway. A sea of thousands of faces, dwarves and humans, watched them the way a sheep watches a wolf closing in. They seemed more afraid than happy to see them.

 _Eragon, remove your cowl,_ Saphira told him sharply. _You will only frighten them more if they cannot see your face._

He hesitated, afraid himself of how they would receive his appearance. Taking a deep breath, Eragon lifted one hand and brushed back his hood, making it appear as though he were simply brushing some of his hair out of his face. He heard a few quiet gasps of surprise, but dared not look at them and only gripped one of Saphira's spikes more tightly. She sent him a gentle touch of thought, soothing his fears somewhat.

Though Eragon was not confident in the crowd's approval of him, Saphira was his other half for a reason. The dragon stretched her neck and loosed a titanic roar, which was matched by Thorn a moment later. The twin bellows rippled and echoed through the crater, prompting a silence from the Varden for several seconds. Then the people started cheering, loudly and excitedly, and Eragon had to make an effort to stop himself from scrambling to adjust the spell which muffled his enhanced hearing until they were done.

Fortunately, the people were so occupied with Eragon, Murtagh, Saphira, and Thorn that they more or less completely missed the fact that there was a Kull and a Shrrg amongst their ranks. Garzhvog was quiet and looked to be putting his hunting prowess to good use by being as silent as possible. The Shrrg looked nervous, ears flicking about and her lips curling some when the Varden cheered, but Saphira reassured the great wolf that things would soon be better.

When they reached Tronjheim itself, a pair of massive, golden griffin statues waited for them on either side of a heavy timber gate. Hidden chains slowly pulled the great construct open, exposing the belly of the marble city to them. More people were waiting inside and cheered as Saphira and Thorn stalked inside. Eragon noticed that most of the dwarves did not cheer, and several turned and walked away with stony faces.

The were led down a mile-long hall, which ended in an arch flanked by gigantic onyx pillars, upon each were yellow zircons thrice the size of a man. Saphira and Thorn entered the arch and craned their necks up to stare above them.

They were within a circular room, easily a thousand feet across that narrowed as it climbed up the three levels of Tronjheim. It was a gateway to four hallways, two of which mirrored one another and went underground. Above them, capping the ceiling, was a dawn-red star sapphire of mammoth proportions and carved to resemble a blooming rose. It was so expertly cut and crafted that Eragon thought for a moment that he was staring at a gigantic flower.

 _Come down, Eragon._

He was jerked out of his awe by a thought from Brom, who nodded to tell Eragon it was time to dismount Saphira. Murtagh was already off of Thorn and Eragon leapt down from his dragon's shoulder, landing in a crouch and rising back up with ease. He was getting better used to his agility, he thought, walking between Saphira and the black Shrrg as Arya led them down a small hallway, around several sharp turns, and to a cedar door turned dark with age. The bald man, who had been following nearby, had the guards open the doors and ushered in everyone but the soldiers.

The room they entered wasn't as monstrous as the entrance to Tronjheim, but it was still large- practically its own house. It was elegantly furnished, but only as necessity deemed it. At the far end of the room, a man stood behind a large, walnut desk.

His skin was the color of oiled ebony, almost gleaming in the light of the room. His head was shaved bare, but he kept a trimmed black beard over his chin and upper lip. The structure of his face was strong and intelligent eyes stared at them from beneath his brow. He looked like a warrior with his broad shoulders, mighty arms, and the air of command about him.

The stern expression on his face became wrought with relief as Arya met him on the other side of the desk and Brom walked around the group to join her at the front. "You've no idea how glad I am to see the both of you alive."

"Well, we tried our best, but death wouldn't have us," Brom replied with a smile, holding his hand out to the man. Ajihad shook Brom's hand firmly, a grin forming on his face. The elder of the two men looked the Varden leader up and down. "You've gotten older."

Ajihad raised an eyebrow and gestured to Brom's white hair. The old man started to laugh, but he quickly schooled his features as Eragon and Murtagh approached with Garzhvog just behind.

The Varden leader turned to Arya. "We feared the worst when Islanzadi contacted us and said your convoy had been found dead. I'm glad our fears were not as bad as they might have been."

Arya nodded to him. "As am I. Though my capture and imprisonment was…trying, I believe we've come out of this conflict the victors."

"Aye," Ajihad agreed, finally setting his eyes upon Eragon and Murtagh, and behind them, their dragons. "Two dragons, two Dragon Riders. Our odds could hardly be better."

"Three, actually," Brom told Ajihad, who paused and stared at him in confusion. Arya shifted her pack and lifted it open, revealing the small, emerald dragon within. Ajihad sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

"He's only recently hatched," Arya murmured. The young dragon watched them with curious eyes, probing at them with his thoughts until Arya calmed him. "We were fortunate Eragon discovered his egg was being held at Gil'ead along with myself. We were all able to escape with the last of Galbatorix's dragon eggs."

Ajihad looked moved beyond words, momentarily leaning on his desk as he took it all in. "Three Dragon Riders for the Varden…Forgive me, I find myself at a loss for words."

He straightened a moment later and studied the brother Dragon Riders standing behind Arya and Brom. "And what are the names of these Riders and their dragons?"

"My name is Murtagh," one replied.

"Eragon," his brother answered.

 _I am Thorn._

 _And I am Saphira._

"I welcome all of you to Tronjheim, Murtagh, Eragon, Thorn, and Saphira. Please, all of you seat yourselves."

They each took a chair, though Garzhvog remained standing beside Saphira and Thorn. Ajihad took note of the Kull with a brief glance, but did not immediately question his presence. He exchanged a look with Brom, who merely dipped his head, and relaxed somewhat. The Shrrg lay down beside Eragon's chair on the left side from where Ajihad sat, though her head was still level with him.

Ajihad raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A man stepped out from behind a nearby staircase, garnering Eragon's attention, for he was identical to the bald man who had guided them here. The Varden leader smiled as Eragon and Murtagh studied the pair. "Your confusion is understandable; they're twin brothers. I'd tell you their names, but they have none."

Saphira curled her lip in distaste and Thorn watched the pair warily. The twins took a stance on either side of the desk, though when one of them moved a little closer to Eragon, the Shrrg beside him let out a snarl, baring her fangs threateningly. The twin paled and backed away until the Shrrg snorted, as though she'd caught the scent of something she disliked.

Ajihad watched the Shrrg for a moment before he addressed the twins. "Wait outside. Orik, you wait there as well. I need to address your insubordination and the twin's…inaction at the gate."

Stiffly, the three people he mentioned nodded before exiting the room, leaving only the travelers and Ajihad within. He turned towards Brom. "An odd group of companions you've gathered. An old man, two elves, a boy, a Kull, three dragons, and a Shrrg. However did you find yourself amidst such company?"

"Through no small amount of luck and a rather equal amount of hardships," the old man replied, turning in his chair to gesture to their Urgal companion. "If I might relieve your concerns now, this is Garzhvog. He's the only Urgal we've encountered to have escaped Durza's grasp- as he has grasped the entirety of their race. If not for him, we'd have been captured by the Ra'zac and I would certainly be dead. As it is, he slew a Ra'zac and crippled a Lethrblaka to free us when we were captured by those foul creatures. I've searched his mind and he's more than earned my trust."

"I can't say that's going to matter a lot to the majority of the Varden," Ajihad admitted reluctantly. "But I trust you and if you say he is trustworthy, I will do my best to ensure he is not attacked. I still advise he remains close to any of you at any given time, though. Many here have cause to hate Urgals, especially with recent events."

Garzhvog merely grunted. "I am not surprised, but I thank you for this."

"There is nothing to thank me for," Ajihad waved it away. "You saved people who are irreplaceable to the Varden. The least I can do is ensure your protection as best I can."

The Kull dipped his head at that. Ajihad again turned to Brom. "I need to know everything."

Brom began to speak, a story which took an hour to complete as it started all the way from Eragon and Murtagh discovering the eggs in Carvahall. Arya briefly touched on that, explaining how she'd been ambushed and answering the question of how the eggs had found their way to the brothers in the first place. Occasionally, Ajihad asked Eragon or Murtagh a question, and he asked Garzhvog how the Urgal had found them trapped by the Ra'zac, but aside from that he was silent as Brom narrated their tale. It lasted for so long, the Shrrg got bored and lay her massive head in Eragon's lap as she started to doze off. He stroked her fur absently as Brom went on and finally completed the story.

When it was over, Ajihad leaned back in his chair, tapping the desk with his fingers. "So Durza lives…and he's taken control of the Urgals to wipe us out. And if what you say is true, that army is now on our doorstep. Durza may not be far behind, and I dare not hope Morzan will not involve himself by the time this is over."

"That isn't the only matter that must be addressed," Ajihad went on. "I've been piecing together the ambush on Arya and her elven guard. I've wondered this for a time, but now I'm certain- that knowledge could only have been passed to Galbatorix if there was a traitor in our midst. Who they are I've no idea, but it must be a member of the Varden."

"I thought the Varden probe everyone who comes in," Brom asked with a deep frown. "Have you changed your policy?"

"No, we have not. Which means the one responsible is likely someone high up who has been here a long time, or someone who can use magic to disguise their thoughts."

"At least that narrows it down," Murtagh remarked.

"Not enough, I'm afraid," Ajihad grimaced. He shook his head. "But that is not a matter we can solve right now with war on our doorstep. You must all be tired and hungry. Brom, if you would remain with me, could I ask the rest of you to wait outside and send Orik in to speak with us. I'll have you sent to eat and rest as soon as possible."

* * *

Orik, as it turned out, became their guide as "punishment" for his insubordination. Apparently, Ajihad agreed with Orik's actions and released him from the Varden's services for disobeying his commander, but as he was a dwarf, he held loyalty to the dwarf King Hrothgar as well- and as such, was now in a position of power.

After directed Saphira and Thorn to fly up to a place called the Dragonhold further up the cliff outside of Tronjheim, Orik led the group of ragtag travelers to a massive hall for dining. Upon arrival, he spoke a few words in an unfamiliar language to a stout dwarf, who called to yet more dwarves to prepare food for them. They each had enough to eat until their bellies were full, and even the Shrrg was given what looked like the whole back leg of a cow. She crunched the bones and devoured the meat eagerly, growling in contentment.

Eragon again ran his fingers through her fur, as she was seated just behind him. The great wolf barely acknowledged him, but seemed fine with the contact.

Orik shook his head in amazement. "Where you keep the brass balls to touch such a beast with such familiarity, I'll never know."

"You should try holding a conversations with Saphira," Eragon told him as he ate a mouthful of a mushroom stew. "Her tongue is sharper than most swords."

"I've no doubt," the dwarf remarked.

Murtagh elbowed Eragon lightly. "Are you going to name her?"

Eragon frowned. "She's not a pet. She's a wild animal."

His brother glanced at the content wolf and shrugged. "She's getting awfully comfortable for a wild animal."

Brom rolled his eyes. "Most animals are comfortable around those who speak peacefully to them in the Ancient Language, save the most foul-tempered of beasts. She's as wild as she's ever been, Murtagh. Do not confuse her behavior for tameness."

Arya finished eating relatively quickly (as did her glutton of a dragon) and stood up. "I'm going to rest. Ajihad had my quarters prepared while we were eating. I shall see you all tomorrow."

She left them then, striding away with weary purpose. Eragon watched her go for a few moments, only stopping when Murtagh nudged him. His brother had a sly grin that made him inwardly groan; that looked used to be reserved only for Roran.

"Don't say it," he pleaded.

"I've no need to," Murtagh sniggered. "The guilt upon your face says it all."

"Guilt?" Orik asked curiously.

"What have you done now, Eragon?" Brom asked gruffly.

"Nothing!" He hissed, standing abruptly as he mentally called Saphira. "I'm going to the Dragonhold. I'm ready to sleep."

He practically ran off, ears burning at what Murtagh was implying. Thankfully, Saphira arrived quickly, slamming into the ground and allowing him to leap onto her back within a few seconds. She took off as quickly as she'd come, leaving many of the Varden to watch her go.

 _I've never seen your ears turn that shade of color before,_ she remarked innocently. Eragon rolled his eyes, fully aware that Saphira delighted in teasing him for her own amusement.

He said nothing until they arrived to the Dragonhold, where they found Thorn still gnawing on a large chunk of meat and bone. The red dragon acknowledged them with a glance, but nothing more. Eragon suddenly realized he'd left the Shrrg behind and began to panic, wondering how they'd get her up to the Dragonhold.

 _I'll go get her when she's finished eating,_ Saphira told him. _She has some trust in me and I can lift her easily enough. But now that we are at last alone with our thoughts…_

 _Saphira,_ he groaned.

 _Oh no, I am going to tease you and get some of this built-up misery out of our systems after that relentless trek we had halfway across Alagaesia!_ Saphira declared, her lip curling to grin at him toothily. _Do not act as though you do not find Arya pleasing to your eyes. I've caught you glancing at her every now and then, not to mention how obsessed you were with finding her in your dreams._

 _I was not obsessed,_ he growled. _It was haunting me to the point that I had trouble sleeping. That wasn't something I enjoyed, you know._

 _True enough. But it does not change that she entrances you,_ Saphira chuckled. The dragon let her teasing tone fall somewhat as her Rider made his way further into the Dragonhold. She followed him steadily as he found a large bed built into the side of the cave wall and flopped upon it with a groan. _Why deny your attraction to her?_

 _I don't_ ** _know_** _her, Saphira,_ he sighed. _Besides, there's no reason for her to return any kind of attraction I might have for her. I'm still a child amongst humans, forget elves. Not to mention I…I'm not really either one of them. Even if we knew each other better, she might not find my appearance to her liking._

Saphira settled on her belly, but kept her head up to look at her Rider closely. _You've thought about this before._

 _Not specifically about Arya, but yes. If what Brom said is true, Murtagh and I are…immortal now. We'll live forever, assuming we aren't killed or catch some fatal illness. I don't think I'd be able to love someone besides an elf if that's the case- the idea of loving a human woman, only to watch her age and die time and time again, it…I couldn't do it. And sure, I think Arya is…_

 _Beautiful?_ She suggested helpfully.

 _Yeah, that,_ his face flushed, to Saphira's amusement. _But Saphira, I don't know anything about Arya. Elves and humans are so different…I'm not even sure how to act around her most of the time. She probably thinks I'm nothing more than a child._

 _You ARE a child,_ Saphira said gently. _You'll grow. I think it's wise to wait and get to know her more before you decide whether or not to act on your…attraction. Who knows? Perhaps when we go and visit the elves in their forest, you'll meet someone who you're more at ease with. But don't forget that she IS a Rider now, just like you. It's inevitable that you're going to interact with her. Maybe she might find you to her liking in time. But for now, take the advice of a woman, Eragon; do not try to rush or force anything, for you will look painfully foolish and desperate._

 _I'll take your word for it. I don't know anything about women except for you, and you already exhaust me,_ he smiled at her jokingly. Saphira bared her teeth in a smile.

 _A wise decision. I've taught you well._

* * *

Murtagh watched with some disbelief as Saphira flew up to the Dragonhold, clutching the Shrrg carefully in her claws. He couldn't believe that actually worked, but the wolf had allowed Saphira to carry her. He, Brom, Garzhvog, and Orik just kind of stared as the dragon flew away with the Shrrg and shook his head after a moment.

"I…I'm not sure what I expected, but that wasn't it," he said at last.

Orik grunted in agreement. "Indeed. Will you two be alright from here?"

Brom nodded. "We'll be fine. Thorn will fly us up shortly. Go back to your kin, Orik. You've done well."

The dwarf dipped his head and walked off then. Murtagh called for Thorn, who flew down after a moment and decided to carry Garzhvog up first. As they waited for the red dragon to return, Brom broke the silence between them.

"What did you say to Eragon earlier that had him so flustered? I'm curious."

Murtagh smirked a little. "Just reminding him of a brother's duties. I used to give Roran a hard time whenever I caught him thinking about Katrina back at Carvahall. Since Eragon's had an eye on Arya for a time now, I thought I'd give him a taste of all the humor I've got in store."

Brom's eyebrows rose high. _"Arya?"_

"Yep. It's just little things here and there, but I'm more than happy to poke fun at him for it," Murtagh chuckled.

The old man frowned. "I should probably talk to him about that."

"Why? Something wrong?"

"Not necessarily, but you two know next to nothing of elves," Brom said gruffly, lifting one hand to his forehead as if to rub a headache away. "I'd better talk to him about that before he embarrasses himself or insults her."

Murtagh slapped the old man's shoulder in a friendly way. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. Eragon's young, but he's not a lovesick fool."

"Yet," Brom groaned. "Women have a way of…complicating things."

The young man inclined his head. They were silent for a little while longer as they spotted Thorn flying down to meet them. "Brom?"

"Hm?"

"You never told me how you know all these people," Murtagh said, his voice steady, but determined. "There's a lot you've said and done that has me wondering just how much you've hidden from us. You know the Varden to the point that their leaders respect you greatly, you are familiar with elves and their ways, and even Arya seems to respect you somewhat. Perhaps I don't know her well, but she does not seem like the kind of person who follows others blindly. She was chosen as the courier of the dragon eggs for a reason, wasn't she? And yet she respected and obeyed your orders on the road almost without question."

Brom was utterly silent. Murtagh didn't stop even as Thorn landed several meters away. "You're too knowledgeable to be a common storyteller or even an exceptional one. You're too respected to be an average member of the Varden. I daresay you're exceptional even to the elves. And despite all of those things, you took a place in Carvahall as a storyteller. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems you did that on a whim. You told me once that you even helped my and Eragon's mother bring us to Carvahall."

"You were in Carvahall for us, weren't you?" Murtagh said as he approached Thorn, whose eyes traveled from his Rider to Brom in curiosity. "Exactly who are you? Why were you watching us?"

"Now is not the time for those questions, Murtagh," he replied. "It is late and we are weary. It would take me too long to explain everything to you."

They mounted Thorn, who took off a moment later for the Dragonhold. As the red dragon landed inside of the cliffside cavern, Murtagh cast a glance towards the bed nearest them, where Eragon was sleeping and the Shrrg had decided to claim most of the space for herself.

He climbed off of Thorn and made his way towards another bed on the opposite side of the cave. It was a good thing there were several beds carved into the stone walls, otherwise they'd have been hard-pressed to find anywhere to sleep but the floor.

"Brom, I trust you with my life and Eragon's life," Murtagh said quietly. "But if there's something you aren't telling us that matters, we have a right to know. We've come this far together, have we not gained your trust?"

"I do trust you, Murtagh," Brom sighed. "Both of you. I'm…simply not ready to explain everything, yet. You must understand, there are things I want to tell you and your brother, but it's…difficult for me. I need more time."

Murtagh sat down on the end of the bed he'd selected and clasped his hands together, looking up at Brom. "You know there's a fight coming. The Urgals aren't going to quit just because we shut the door on them. When the war breaks out, we don't even know if we'll come out of it alive."

"The two of you will," Brom said with some of the fire Murtagh was familiar with. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

When morning came, Eragon woke to a Shrrg taking up half the bed, having pushed him almost into the stone wall. He rolled his eyes and frowned, sitting up and quietly making his way off the bed to walk to the edge of the Dragonhold. He shivered slightly, shirtless in the cold air as he looked down upon Tronjheim and Farthen Dur. It was quite the view.

"Oh good, you're up."

He turned to spot Brom, already dressed and ready for the day. Garzhvog was gone, as was Murtagh, but Saphira and Thorn were each eating a carcass that had been brought up for them. The old man tossed a fresh tunic to Eragon, who caught it deftly. "There's a bath in the back of the cave down the hallway on your right. Get yourself cleaned up, we're going to the sparring grounds today."

"For what?" Eragon asked.

"A test and a show."

* * *

When their group arrived at the training grounds for the Varden, a crowd was already waiting. Most of them were soldiers, but some were civilians who had spotted Saphira and Thorn flying down.

The Shrrg was carried down by Saphira again, much to her displeasure. Eragon sighed at the sight. They needed to find another way move her. In fact, they probably needed to get her back outside into the wilderness as soon as possible, but that wasn't likely with Urgals banging on their doors at the moment. At least she was patient.

Ajihad was amongst the soldiers, watching them as they arrived. At his side was a young woman with the same, dark skin and regal appearance. Eragon raised an eyebrow curiously. His daughter, perhaps?

Orik was there as well, and beside him stood a dwarf even more regal than Ajihad. He bore a gold helm lined with rubies and diamonds, behind which were ancient and wise eyes that dug into Eragon and Murtagh with intensity. He looked ready for battle, wearing full armor and leaning on a mighty war hammer with a symbol Orik bore on his own helm- the symbol of one of the dwarf clans, Eragon realized.

He studied the King with respect, but wariness, for Eragon held little doubt this dwarf was Hrothgar, if the unusual number of dwarves around him said anything. For a moment, he met the King's eyes and they stared at one another, trying to discern the others' thoughts. There was an uncomfortable silence on the field as people began to realize the pair were facing off. Eventually, Eragon dipped his head, unwilling to insult the monarch and deciding that he liked the iron will of the dwarf King, for Hrothgar gave away nothing to his eyes.

The corner of Hrothgar's lips twitched upward somewhat and he gave a short nod, acknowledging Eragon's respect. He repeated the process with Murtagh and was satisfied when the older of the two brothers met him with the same respect.

Brom gripped each of their shoulders and squeezed firmly. He kept his voice low as he explained what was going on. "This is important. The two of you are going to be seen in action for the first time before the Varden and dwarves. Remember what you've learned and do not hesitate, or she'll crush you before you can blink."

"Who?" Murtagh asked.

Brom nodded across the field. A circle had been formed by the Varden and dwarves about a hundred yards in any direction. On the other side, slipping around Ajihad and his daughter, Arya emerged from the crowd, which parted from her like water around rock. She strode forward, her infant dragon stopping beside Ajihad at a mental order, and unsheathed her sword as she faced the two brothers.

Arya called to them. "I claim the right of trial by arms to see how you match the standards of my people. Draw your swords."

Brom squeezed Murtagh's shoulder. "You'll be fighting her one-on-one. Remember what I told you about the elves- she's going to be stronger and faster than you by far. Arya is an experienced warrior as well. You'll have to match her with technique and control the flow of the battle. Do not let up, Murtagh."

He unsheathed Zar'roc and guarded the edge of the blade with magic, which Arya matched, then slowly walked onto the field, pacing back and forth as though trying to decide where to start. The elf waited for him, eyes never leaving the elder brother as she mirrored his pacing. They closed the distance deceptively until they were almost within striking range.

Murtagh struck first, slashing straight for Arya's head. In a blur of speed even to Eragon's sharp eyes, she deflected the blow and made to stab at Murtagh, who barely shifted out of the way in time and struck again. Arya parried and so began their duel.

It was the most complex contest of swordsmanship Eragon had ever laid eyes on. Murtagh fought harder and with every technique they'd been taught matching Arya blow for blow in an effort to outplay her somehow. No matter what Murtagh tried, Arya matched him with ease, engaging with her own attacks and forcing the human Rider to adapt whenever she did.

Saphira watched the fight and relayed her thoughts to Eragon. _She's far beyond any other swordsman we've encountered._

Eragon could only nod, transfixed by the sight of the battle.

The duel lasted for almost thirty minutes until Murtagh began to tire and Arya's elfin strength and speed finally bested him. After engaging in the most complicated series of blows Eragon had seen, Arya locked their swords at the guard and flicked Zar'roc out of Murtagh's grasp before lifting her blade to his throat.

A cheer echoed over the ranks of the Varden and the dwarves. Arya murmured something amidst the din to Murtagh, who nodded, panting, before she backed off and he retrieved Zar'roc. Eragon met his brother as he returned to the dragons.

Murtagh was sweating buckets and still gasping for air as he set a hand on Eragon's shoulder. He shook his head in astonishment. "She's incredible! I didn't have even a moment to breathe or get my bearings. She's deceptively strong, too. Brom wasn't kidding when he said elves are far stronger than men. That first blow had my bones rattling."

Eragon nodded, glancing at the elf who waited for him as calmly as she had before her duel with Murtagh. His brother gripped Eragon's shoulder, regaining his attention. "Don't give her a chance to think. You're faster than I am. If you can catch her by surprise, you might be able to finish the duel before she can react."

Catch her by surprise? He had an idea on how he could do that.

"I'm borrowing this," Eragon told Murtagh suddenly as he unsheathed Zar'roc from his brother's hip. He wielded the blade in his left hand while unsheathing Undbitr with his right as he approached Arya, who lifted an eyebrow at the sight of the red and blue swords in his hands.

 _Eragon, you haven't fought with two swords often in your spars,_ Saphira warned him.

 _You saw how she matched Murtagh,_ he replied to her as he began to square off with Arya. _I won't win if I try to match her technique. She's better than either of us. I'll have to improvise._

In fact, he wanted to throw her for a loop right off the bat.

Eragon lunged directly at Arya, covering the distance in a blur thanks to his enhanced speed. He spun as he got in range and swept both of his blades towards her, just as Murtagh had. But he wasn't aiming for her head.

He was aiming for the sword she used to parry him.

The attack carried all his strength as the two blades crashed into Arya's, blowing her guard open and though she did not lose her grip on her sword, her right arm was forced high above her. The elf's eyes widened in momentary surprise and there was a gasp amongst the watching crowd.

Eragon tried to seize the opportunity to slash at her, but Arya was a veteran fighter through and through- even as he began swinging the blades back down upon her, she lightly pushed off with one foot and escaped his range. The blow had been heavy, but it made his follow up too slow to deliver a decisive strike.

Eragon chased after her, blue and red swords flashing in the light as Arya met him with all of her strength and skill. She met him calmly, eyes darting to discern his every move and predict his next one. Their blades met in a seemingly endless song and dance of steel, each adapting to the other even as they changed their tempo and technique. They were relentless in their dance, never stopping, neither yielding to their adversary.

Despite the intensity of the battle, Eragon suddenly started to laugh. He was having the time of his life.

Dueling Arya was incredible. Eragon found himself wishing that their dance could go on forever. Even as he did his absolute damnedest to defeat her, he felt admiration the likes of which he'd never experienced. He was learning her moves as they fought and even incorporated some into his attacks as the battle went on. He glimpsed another spark of surprise in Arya's eyes as he used her moves against her and couldn't help but smile widely as she effortlessly blocked him. No matter what he did, he could not disarm her or catch her off-guard long enough to defeat the elf. Even with two swords against her one, he could not outplay her.

Finally, the battle came to a head. Eragon had locked Undbitr with Arya's blade and lifted Zar'roc to strike at her torso. Quick as a snake, the elf suddenly ducked low to the ground and Eragon overshot, throwing his body off-balance. The next thing he knew, his back was being slammed into the ground and the edge of a blade met his throat. A weight had settled on top of him.

He was gasping for breath, chest heaving as he looked up, still stunned, at Arya. She herself was sweating and breathing a little heavily, but her eyes, posture, and voice remained as steady as when they had begun. Eragon still felt such a rush from their battle that he didn't even realize Arya was actually pinning him to the ground with her body. Her breath was cool and caressed the damp skin of his face, making him shiver. She smelled of crushed pines.

"You pass."

Arya got off of Eragon and backed away, sheathing her blade. Eragon simply remained lying on the ground, trying to catch his breath. He could barely think and his skin was slick with sweat. For a few moments, he closed his eyes, unable to fight off the huge smile on his face. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt every vein in his body tremble with each heavy pulse. He'd never felt so _alive_ in his entire life.

 _You're well and truly smitten now, aren't you?_ Saphira said dryly once he'd regained enough of himself to think properly.

He couldn't even bring it upon himself to deny it this time.

* * *

 **A/N: It would seem I'm in the mood to write Inheritance stuff at the moment. I do have the majority of the next chapters of Challenger and Viridescent almost done, but I keep getting drawn back to Eragon for some reason. Oh well, better make use of this desire to write while it's here!**

 **As ever, please review and thanks for reading!**


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